


The Fire Finds a Home

by fearfully_beautifully_made



Series: Sparks [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (Even if He Can't Say It), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom John Watson, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Bottoming from the Top, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions Past Abuse, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Tiny bit of Angst, Top John Watson, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-01-20 22:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12443115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearfully_beautifully_made/pseuds/fearfully_beautifully_made
Summary: This is a work that started as a drabble after I finished "Through Fire" and is set in the same universe.  After Sherlock and John decide to give having a relationship a go, this is how their relationship starts to develop.  There a little bit of plot, if you squint, but it was mostly an excuse to write John and Sherlock having sex in a lot of different ways and learning to love each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first thing I want to draw your attention to is the tag "Mentions Past Abuse" - that will be particularly true in this chapter and if you have triggers related to sexual abuse please read with caution.
> 
> Secondly, as I said, there isn't much plot here. I started writing this work toward the end of "Through Fire" and have been playing with it when I needed a break from other works I've been writing. It started a one chapter and before I knew it I'd written 30,000 words of mostly porn... ooops. 
> 
> Please let me know f you see tags missing and would like them added. I edit all of my own works so any errors/typos are all mine and I am not British, so if you find mistakes please point them out so I can correct them. Comments are always appreciated. <3
> 
> Lastly, I am currently writing the last chapter of this work, so for all intents and purposes, it is complete but I will have to edit it as I post it. I plan to update this work at least once a week (hopefully more often) but I work between 50-60 hours a week and I am currently in grad school. Some weeks I get to the end and I haven't had a moment to even breathe. I will do my best to update this work as often as possible.
> 
> Enjoy darlings! <3

_Sherlock_

The sex was good.

It was better than good if Sherlock was being honest; it was everything Sherlock had never known he wanted (especially after they'd decided to give this relationship lark a go). Sex with John was like nothing Sherlock had ever experienced. One moment they would be locked together; hands clasping hands, sweat slicked bodies pressing against one another, completely desperate and the next they would be laughing and rolling around in bed.

John kissed him like it was the sole purpose for his existence, he brushed his thumbs along his cheeks and brushed his curls back from his face. He held him and stroked his hands along Sherlock's skin until Sherlock was tingling with pleasure. But John was more than sweetness and tenderness. Sometimes he would smirk and get a particular glint in his eye before leaning close to Sherlock and whispering filthy things in his ears. He'd whisper words that curled Sherlock's toes and made him blush down to the roots of his hair.

The sex was outstanding.

In spite of how outstanding the sex was, they'd yet to attempt penetrative sex. Sherlock was equal parts excited and nervous about the development of this step; based on the things John whispered in his ears and his affinity for his arse, he could only imagine it was something the other man wanted. And when he talked about opening Sherlock up and pressing inside of his body, Sherlock wanted it too.

The trouble was Sherlock had never enjoyed anal sex in the past, anal sex in fact had been anything but enjoyable and he felt mildly nauseous even imagining having anything pressed inside of him when he and John weren't in the middle of sex . His stomach wound itself in knots when he thought about it outside of the context of John and he'd wondered if it was something he'd even be able to do. But, he reminded himself firmly, he'd hated everything to do with sex before John, why should anal sex be any different?

John interrupted his thoughts by reaching across the table and rubbing his thumb over Sherlock's hand, "You haven't touched your pasta," John murmured. "You've sat there staring at it for the past five minutes, what are you thinking about?"

Sherlock took a bite of his dinner, they'd just finished solving a case and he was actually rather hungry. As he chewed he decided he might as well broach the subject of anal sex now, he couldn't take the suspense, wondering when it was going to happen and worrying about it was driving him to distraction. "I've been thinking about penetrative sex," Sherlock blurted in as casual a manner as he could muster, attempting to make it sound as mundane as talking about the weather. He feared it didn't come out quite as casually as he'd hoped and it definitely came out a bit louder than he'd intended.

John spluttered and started to cough, choking on the bit of pasta that he'd been attempting to chew. He covered his mouth with his fist as his body attempted to clear his airway of the food he'd inadvertently swallowed the wrong way. When his coughing was under control he glanced around at the other patrons of the restaurant who were pointedly pretending not to listen even though they clearly were. "Maybe we could talk about this at home?" John hazarded.

"Well, yes," Sherlock started, feeling a bit out of sorts, "But I thought perhaps we ought to pick up the appropriate supplies on our way."

John stared at him in shocked disbelief that this conversation had just taken plaice in a public restaurant of all places and Sherlock started to regret his decision to bring it up at all. Maybe it was just something John liked to talk about doing but had no real interest in actually performing the act in bed. There were a lot of fantasies like that Sherlock reason, flushing at the idea that he had just suggested something that he didn't really want to do.

But before Sherlock could come up with anything to say, a crooked grin broke out across John's face and he reached across the table to take Sherlock's hand in his. "You're completely mad, you realize?"

Sherlock flushed and looked down at his plate, pushing the food around aimlessly with his fork even as he tried to withdraw his hand from John's grip.

"And I adore you," John murmured softly, his voice warm and happy as he gave Sherlock's hand a squeeze.

Sherlock looked up at the words, scanning John face for any trace of mockery or even worse, pity. He didn't find any there, all he found was open sincerity as always, a fond sort of exasperation, and an easy affection that Sherlock had had a hard time identifying at first.

"I really do," John murmured softly, leaning forward across the table to press his lips to Sherlock's in a chaste, but lingering kiss which managed to promise a good deal more than one might have expected.

They finished dinner quickly after that and Sherlock couldn't decide whether he'd been more nervous before or after he'd propositioned John. John, it seemed, had no such qualms. His body was all but thrumming with energy and once they'd finished their meal, he'd taken Sherlock's hand and kept their fingers firmly entwined as they stopped off at a pharmacy on the way to the flat. He squeezed Sherlock's hand every time he glanced over and smiled at him.

And Sherlock couldn't help but smile back, it was an automatic response to John smiling at him that way, something in the pit of Sherlock's stomach fluttered and the corners of his lips curled of their own accord. It happened with as little thought as breathing. But as soon as John looked away, his stomach would clench and his smile would slide back off. The fluttering thing in the pit of his stomach turned into a rock, his heart started racing, his tongue felt too large for his mouth so it was impossible to swallow, and he couldn't seem to get a deep enough breath. Anxiety his mind supplied but he batted the thought out of the way, excitement showed similar characteristics.

They left the pharmacy and started toward the flat but before they could make it the entire way, John was giving Sherlock's hand a tug and leading him into a liquor store. "One more stop," he murmured, before leaning up on his toes to press a kiss to Sherlock's cheek.

Sherlock followed John in and watched as John picked up one bottle of wine after another, mentally running through everything he knew about each bottle in his mind to distract himself.

Eventually John settled on one and they paid for it before leaving and heading toward Baker Street. Sherlock felt like he could have run the entire way back to the flat, he had so much energy coursing through his veins and nothing to do with it. But John seemed to be in no hurry, he strolled along down the sidewalk, his arm around Sherlock's back now.

"Alright?" John asked, drawing Sherlock out of his mind.

"Of course I am," Sherlock replied quickly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

John shrugged and tugged Sherlock closer to his side, "Dunno. You just seem a little antsy. There's no rush, you know."

"I know," Sherlock retorted impatiently. "I was the one to bring it up, don't you think I realize there's no rush?"

There was a short pause before John spoke, "I just meant there was no rush to get home and jump into bed right away," he replied evenly. "Although, there's no rush for this particular activity either if you aren't feeling like it's something you're particularly set on." John looked over at him and grinned, "I have no shortage of activities I would love to do to and with you."

Sherlock nudged him with his shoulder and rolled his eyes but he couldn't keep the small smile from his face, "No, I want this."

"Good," John murmured as he opened the door to the flat and held it for Sherlock. He pressed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek as Sherlock passed him, "Me too."

Sherlock went ahead of John and took the stairs two at a time, stripping out of his coat on the way and hanging it on the peg as he passed. He immediately headed toward the bedroom, thinking it would be best to just get it over with. He'd stop feeling so nervous once they actually got underway.

This would be good for him and for John, it's what was expected in relationships and if they just got this part done with they could move on to other things. He exhaled shakily and hoped they could get it over quickly.

It had never taken Victor terribly long to finish in the past, maybe it was always that short. He felt a shiver trace its way up his spine at the thought of Victor and tried to press those thoughts from his mind. Victor was probably the last thing he should be thinking about.

He shook his head and tried to clear it, what was wrong with him? He was being a child, this was ludicrous. Anal sex wasn't a big deal, what was he getting so worked up about? He and John had had sex dozens of times, this was just a different way to do it. It was no big deal.

He was almost to the threshold of the bedroom when John caught his hand in his, "Hang on a minute. Come here," he said softly, giving Sherlock's hand a tug, "Let's just sit for a minute."

Sherlock turned ready to tell John he didn't want to; ready to tell John he had no interest in sitting, to tell him the very thought of sitting there and drinking and talking made him want to jump out the window. But the words died on his lips when he looked at John, his John, with his warm eyes and soft smile. His John with his jumpers and tea, his John who would rather kill a man than see Sherlock hurt. The stormed raging in his mind quieted a bit and Sherlock exhaled shakily before giving John a short nod.

John grinned at him and brought Sherlock's hand to his lips to press a kiss to his knuckle. "Come on," he said softly, leading Sherlock over to the sofa before he went to the kitchen and fetched glasses. He poured a glass of wine for Sherlock and handed it to him before pouring one for himself and settling beside Sherlock on the sofa.

Sherlock turned so his back was pressed against the armrest and tried to fit his legs comfortably in the space between the two of them on the sofa. John rolled his eyes and tugged Sherlock's feet so they were laid across his lap, he gave Sherlock's foot a squeeze and Sherlock exhaled shakily.

John started talking, his voice soft and melodic; it wasn't the words he said, it was just the way he talked. The longer Sherlock listened and responded, the longer he watched John, the more John's hands wandered along the soles of Sherlock's feet and his legs, the more comfortable Sherlock got. His heart slowed and the knot in the pit of his stomach unwound a bit. John reached for the bottle of wine on the table and poured Sherlock a second glass before leaning in and pressing their lips together. When he drew back, he brushed his thumb along Sherlock's cheekbone and then leaned away to fill his own glass. He took a sip and gestured to Sherlock's with a grin.

"John Watson," Sherlock said in a mock scandalized tone, "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Maybe," John replied with a grin and a wink.

Sherlock downed half of his glass, before moving so he could set his glass on the coffee table. He turned and looked at John over his shoulder, John was watching him attentively, sipping his wine. Sherlock smirked and turned, straddling John's hips and sinking down on his lap. John stared up at him, his smile fading and being replaced by a spark in his eyes.

Sherlock ran his fingers through John's soft hair, watching his progress as he made John's hair stick up in all directions. Then Sherlock let his eyes move from John's hair back to his face, he traced John's cheekbones with his fingers, and brushed a thumb along John's bottom lip.

"Kiss me," John whispered, his tongue sneaking out to trace the path Sherlock's finger had just taken along his lip.

Sherlock angled his head and pressed their lips together in a barely there brush of skin on skin. John sighed and his eyes drifted shut as Sherlock drew back and tilted his head the other way before bringing his lips back to John's and brushing their lips together. John's lips pressed against his in a brief press, following Sherlock's lead and waiting as Sherlock drew away and angled his head slightly differently, catching John's bottom lip between his this time.

John exhaled in a soft moan and Sherlock couldn't resist opening his mouth against John's. His hands slid down John's neck and rested on his shoulders as he let himself settle into kissing the other man. John wrapped an arm around Sherlock's back and leaned forward, he held Sherlock to keep him from falling as he set his glass on the floor. Sherlock's fingers gripped the fabric of John's jumper tightly as John leaned back once more and Sherlock's lips started to move against his in earnest.

John stroked his hands up and down Sherlock's spine as Sherlock continued re-angling his head to find the best position to kiss John in. Eventually John's hands slipped up to Sherlock's face and he took control of the kiss, cradling Sherlock's face so he could press his lips to Sherlock's. They went back and forth this way until Sherlock was breathing heavily and he felt more intoxicated with the kiss than he had with the wine.

Finally Sherlock pulled back, he swallowed and gave himself a moment to catch his breath before he opened his eyes to look at John. John had his head resting against the back of the couch, his eyes open and trained on Sherlock. Sherlock leaned in a pressed one more soft kiss to John lips, leaving his eyes open to look at John. When he pulled back he murmured, "Take me to bed."  
John's pupils were blown wide when he looked back up at Sherlock where he was perched across his lap. His tongue traced his bottom lip once more and his hands rubbed over Sherlock's thighs. "Are you sure about this?" he asked softly.

Sherlock huffed impatiently. "What is there to be unsure about? Honestly, John, I'm no blushing virgin."

"I know you're not," John said as he slipped his hands up under Sherlock's shirt and ran his fingertips over his ribs, Sherlock shuddered at the touch. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the sensitive spot just behind Sherlock's ear, sucking at the skin lightly and the blowing across it.

Sherlock shuddered again and his hips attempted futilely to grind his erection against John and give him some relief. "John," he groaned, "Take me to bed or I'm going to do it myself."

He felt John grin against his neck, "Now that is something I would love to watch."

Sherlock shook his head in exasperation and embarrassment at the idea of John watching him masturbate.

The other man pressed a kiss to Sherlock's lips even as he chuckled at him. He slicked his tongue along Sherlock's lips before delving inside and drawing a breathy moan from Sherlock. When John drew back, he brushed Sherlock's curls off his face and said, "Right, then. I'm taking you to bed."

Sherlock nodded and stood up, taking John's hand in his and drawing him up off the sofa. The knot in the pit of his stomach started to form again but Sherlock pushed it away. It was just stupid nerves, this was John and sex with John was always amazing. This wouldn't be any different, he told himself firmly.

When they reached the bedroom Sherlock started toward the bed, but John tugged his hand and spun him. John pulled him to himself and started kissing him as he unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. John ran his fingers over Sherlock's newly exposed skin, tweaking his nipples and making Sherlock gasp and press closer to him.

John groaned and his hands slipped down to rub Sherlock's arse through his trousers. "I'm going to make you feel so good, sweetheart," he murmured and Sherlock had a moment of panic, trying to imagine how he was supposed to convince John that having his erection up his arse felt good. But John didn't seem to notice as his lips had moved to Sherlock's neck to suck kisses into his skin as he moved Sherlock toward the bed. His hands slid around to the button and zip on Sherlock's trousers and he undid them before pressing Sherlock onto his back on the mattress.

John grinned down at him as he pulled off Sherlock's trousers before stripping himself. Sherlock watched, analyzing every inch of John's body as it appeared. The cuddly jumpers hid such a strong, stunning physique; he was compact and solid, and his skin had a golden hue that made him always look warm and inviting to touch.

John smiled at him and crawled onto the bed so he was straddling Sherlock's hips, "Why are you looking at me like that?" John asked as he stroked Sherlock's curls back from his face and leaned forward to brush their noses together before pressing a kiss to Sherlock's lips.

"Like what?" Sherlock asked, his voice coming out breathier than he imagined it would.

"Like you've never seen me naked before," John replied before his mouth began pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock tilted his head back to give John more room even as he shrugged awkwardly against the bed, "I like looking at you."

John looked up at that and caught Sherlock's gaze with his. He held Sherlock's eyes for a moment before his lips fell back to Sherlock's again, slipping his tongue inside of Sherlock's mouth, tangling with Sherlock's tongue and stroking his teeth. Sherlock ran his hands up and down John's back as the other man pressed their erections together.

"Alright," John gasped, pulling back a moment later. "Fuck," he shook his head and pressed another quick kiss to Sherlock's lips as though he couldn't resist. "Alright, we have to stop if you want me to fuck you."

Sherlock nodded in spite of the butterflies in his stomach, he reminded himself for the dozenth time that this was John and he didn't need to be nervous.

"Roll over for me," John requested as he moved off of Sherlock's body to dig around in the nightstand drawer for a moment.

Sherlock steeled himself and rolled over, bracing himself for the inevitable pain. He positioned himself on his knees and elbows, resting his forehead against his forearms and exhaling shakily.

"So beautiful," John murmured, rubbing his hands gently up and down Sherlock's back, soothing the muscles bunched tightly in his shoulders and trying to work out some of the tension. John pressed a kiss to the very top of his spine and worked his way down, down, down. He reached Sherlock's tailbone and parted Sherlock's buttocks with his hands. Taking a deep breath Sherlock prepared himself for John's departure, bracing once again for the discomfort and pain.

The next sensation he felt, however, was not pain. John's lips didn't stop at Sherlock's tailbone, they continued lower and lower until they pressed against Sherlock's hole.

All of the breath Sherlock hadn't realized he'd been holding rushed out in a 'Huh' sort of sound and his eyes clenched shut as his cock, which had softened at the idea of being penetrated, surged back to full hardness. Sherlock audibly sucked in a breath, feeling lightheaded. "John," he gasped raggedly.

Then, as if the feeling of John's lips on his arsehole weren't enough to make his feel beyond cherished, he felt John's lips open against his flesh and then John's tongue was pressing against that sensitive bit of puckered flesh. "Oh," Sherlock whispered, his legs shaking as he spread them further to give John better access to his hole. Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes as he gasped and whimpered.

John pulled back and brushed his fingers over the newly wetted flesh, not pressing or pushing, just trailing feather-light over Sherlock's skin. "Is that alright?"

Sherlock couldn't bring himself to speak, he merely nodded his head fervently, keeping his eyes clenched tightly shut. John moved back into position and pressed his tongue against Sherlock's core once more. Sherlock lost all concept of time as John continued to lick and kiss and suck at that flesh, relaxing Sherlock further and further. Sherlock kept his arse pressed high in the air, but his chest collapsed forward until it was pressing against the mattress and he'd had to turn his head to the side to take shuddering breaths.

John wiggled his tongue against Sherlock's entrance and then before Sherlock had realized what had happened, John's tongue had slipped past the first ring of muscles. Sherlock startled himself with the wailing, desperate noise that escaped his own mouth. John drew his tongue back out of his body and Sherlock wined piteously, "Please," he cried only to find John's tongue had pressed back inside of him once more. John kept up this exquisite torture, licking and sucking, pressing his tongue in and swirling it around Sherlock's rim and Sherlock thought he could come just like this.

Sherlock was out of his mind with lust when John finally drew back and Sherlock felt something thicker and more solid than a tongue press against his entrance. John was pressing one well lubed finger into Sherlock's hole and Sherlock attempted to fight the impulse to clench down and seal himself off from the intrusion.

"Alright?" John asked breathlessly, stilling the movement of his finger and rubbing Sherlock's lower back with his other hand in a clear response to Sherlock's less than perfect reception.

Sherlock cleared his throat and pressed his chest up off the bed once more, steadying himself and resting his forehead on his forearms. He nodded, "It's fine. Sorry. Just keep going."

John kept his index finger where it was and rubbed lightly around Sherlock's hole with his thumb, "We don't have to do this," he said and Sherlock could hear the trace of insecurity in his voice. "I would be just as happy to rim you until you come screaming my name and clenching around my tongue if you'd rather," he offered sincerely.

Sherlock whimpered at the thought, heat rushing through his body as he imagined how glorious it would be to come with John's tongue inside of him but something drew him up short. He needed to do this. He needed to give this part of himself to John; surely on some level it was expected. "It's fine," Sherlock said. "I'm sure."

He felt John's finger begin working itself in and out of his hole once more, still moving slowly and carefully.

It wasn't painful or uncomfortable, per say, but it also wasn't terribly pleasant. Something about it made Sherlock feel dirty and devalued; he very purposefully did not follow that train of thought to its roots. There were unpleasant memories lurking just under the surface, they weren't exactly present in the form of thoughts but he could feel them prickling just under his skin.

He forced out an exhale and focused on John, on here and now, on what was happening between them. "John, please, add another finger," he said, his voice was tense and he hoped that it passed for being turned on rather than just wanting this to be over.

"I don't want to hurt you," John said reasonably as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's spine.

"Just do it!" Sherlock all but shouted.

A moment later John pressed a second lubed finger in and Sherlock inhaled sharply through his nose. The sting and the feeling of uncomfortable fullness overwhelmed him and he shuddered as the slew of horrible memories that had been lurking forced themselves into the front of his mind. He sucked in a huge breath, his chest was too tight, he couldn't breathe; everything was too tight and constricted. He tasted the coppery tang of blood in his mouth and his heart thundered in his ears and slammed against his rib cage in his chest. He was out of the bed in an instant, his body aching as he sprinted to the loo and slammed the door behind him.

He barely made it to the toilet in time before he vomited up the dinner they'd eaten and the wine they'd drunk. He threw up until he was dry heaving, gasping for breath before his stomach forced him to try and empty it once more. He coughed and gasped, his throat raw and eyes stinging as his body heaved again.

Sherlock flushed the toilet and there was a knock on the door, "Sherlock?" John asked, his voice brittle and frightened sounding. "I'm sorry."

Sherlock wretched again, his stomach ridding itself of some bile as memories flooded his mind and body. He got himself under control and stood on shaking legs, brushing his teeth to rid his mouth of the vile taste before he staggered to the shower. He turned the water as hot as it would go and sat down on the floor of the tub. The scalding water burned his skin, but it made it better, it made the pain physical and the ache in his chest lessened somehow. He wrapped his arms around his shins and pressed his head into his knees, trying to regulate his breathing.

"Sherlock?" John called again and in his mind's eye Sherlock could see him leaned against the other side of the door, his head pressed against the wood. He knew John was beating himself up, knew he would be feeling terrible.

"Come in," Sherlock croaked and he worried for a moment that John wouldn't hear him but the door swung open and John stood in the doorway, a pair of gym shorts slung low around his hips. He looked just as miserable as Sherlock had imagined he would, his face pale and eyebrows drawn together in concern.

They stared at one another for a long moment and Sherlock shrunk further inside himself. How would they ever get past this? He hid his face in his knees again, he didn't want to watch John leave. But then he heard the bathroom floorboards creek and the air near around him shifted as John knelt by the tub. There was a moment of hesitation and Sherlock knew John was debating whether or not to touch him. Sherlock hadn't thought it was possible but his heart sank further and he felt even more helpless and pathetic. Of course John was afraid to touch him, he was probably worried he'd set off another irrational reaction.

But then, miraculously, John's arms wrapped around him and he pressed a kiss to Sherlock's curls, water spilling over the two of them and onto the floor. "I'm sorry," John whispered, his voice made Sherlock's throat ache, "I'm such a fucking arse." John climbed into the too small tub and fitted their bodies together, wrapping Sherlock in his arms and making Sherlock feel small. "I'm sorry," John murmured again, pressing kisses into his curls.

Sherlock squirmed until he fit in John's arms and could wrap his arms around John's neck, squeezing him tight and pressing his face into John's neck.

John rocked him back and forth and pressed kisses to his temple and his forehead, anything he could reach, and Sherlock realized belatedly that he was weeping like a child and he couldn't make himself stop. He cried and cried, huge shuddering gasps wracked his body as he fought to breathe and recenter himself.

Finally he managed to calm himself down and he knew he should pull away and explain, he knew he should apologize for his ridiculous behavior, but his body wanted nothing of the sort. He collapsed in John's arms, all of the fight and adrenaline leaving his body at once. He was completely exhausted.

The water had run cold and he felt John shiver around him, "I'm so sorry," John whispered into Sherlock's curls.

Guilt flooded Sherlock's being, he was awful, look what he'd done. He'd made John feel badly for wanting something he was entitled to, he'd made John apologetic and afraid because he couldn't be in control of his stupid transport. He pulled away from John then, standing up and reaching for a towel. "You have nothing to be sorry for." He climbed out of the tub and wrapped the towel around his body. "This was ridiculous," he said with a shake of his head, he tried to press the emotions down, lock them away again. "Don't be sorry," he said, turning on his heel and stalking out of the bathroom. He had to get out of here, he needed to go somewhere, needed to breathe, needed to think. It was too hot in here, everything was collapsing around him, he felt like he had no where to go, he was trapped.

He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a tshirt, by the time his head was pushing through the neck of the shirt, John was walking in, a towel wrapped around his waist. Sherlock stared at him, drowning in helplessness and hopelessness.

John reached out toward him, he didn't touch him, he just reached out a hand and offered Sherlock a lifeline. "Don't go," John whispered. "Let me come with you."

Sherlock nodded once and watched as John breathed a heavy sigh and nodded back at him before turning and digging out a pair of his own sweatpants and a tshirt. When he was dressed, John turned to Sherlock, "Let me show you something."

Sherlock said nothing but followed John up the stairs to his old bedroom, John pulled a blanket out of the trunk at the bottom of his bed. "I found this one day when I was frustrated and wanted to get some air." He opened the closet and Sherlock stared at his clothes, ordered by colour and hanging pressed and neat.

"An organizational system?" Sherlock asked sarcastically, he wasn't in the mood for this.

"No," John said as he shoved the clothes aside and then pulled on a rope hanging in the corner of the closet. The panel above slid out of place and John grabbed the chair from the desk and pushed it into the closet. Then he climbed on the chair and pulled himself through the hole in the ceiling. Sherlock watched as he disappeared and debated leaving the room. He'd seen the plans for this building, there was nothing up there, the hole only led to a tiny crawl space above this room. But then John's head popped back out of the hole, "Coming?" he asked as he looked at Sherlock.

Sherlock shrugged and climbed up on the chair, John took his hands and helped to hoist him through the hole in the ceiling, pulling him into the dusting, dirty crawl space. "John, I really don't think this is better."

"This isn't the destination," John told him as he stared to crawl toward the edge of the building where a medium sized window sat, providing the room it's only source of light. Sherlock followed him and John pushed the window open, and out of the way. Sherlock cringed at the noise it made but before he could complain John turned his body so his feet were facing the window and levered himself outside. There must have been a ledge below because once John had wiggled out of the window, his chest was at the height of the window and Sherlock watched in disbelief as John's torso disappeared as he started to climb, his feet planted on the window ledge for a moment before he climbed to the top of the sill and disappeared from Sherlock's view.

"Come on," John's voice called.

And so Sherlock did, wiggling carefully out the window. He realized the "ledge" John had been standing on was the top of the window from John's old room. "You're insane!" Sherlock shouted as his toes clung to the top of the sill and he pulled the rest of his body out.

He heard John's laugh and looked up to see John's head poked over the edge of the roof, his hands held out to Sherlock. "I've got you," John assured him. Sherlock grabbed John's hands and let John pull him up onto the roof. "It's a great view," John said once Sherlock was on his feet. He kept one of Sherlock's hand's wrapped in his and they looked out over what they could see of the city.

They stood like that for a while, holding one another's hands and looking around them into the night. Eventually, John gave Sherlock's hand a gentle tug and led him over to the blanket he'd laid out on the roof. John sat down and looked up at Sherlock, Sherlock bit his lip and paused for a moment as he tried to decide where to put himself. With a nod, he settled himself between John's legs with his back pressed against John's front. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and pressed a kiss to his temple.

They were quiet and Sherlock felt his body and mind settle, the air around them was cool and didn't feel oppressive.

"I really am sorry," John murmured, ruining the quiet and calm.

Sherlock sighed, "You've nothing to be sorry for." He turned his head to look at John awkwardly out of the corner of his eye. "Don't be sorry."

"I am though," John said. "I knew you were uncomfortable but I just thought it was nerves. You know, like butterflies and excitement and a little nervousness. I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head, "I should have thought..." he trailed off then, as though he wasn't really sure how to finish that sentence.

Sherlock flushed, "John, it's nothing." He shook his head and took a deep breath, "It won't be a problem next time." It felt like a lie but he knew he had to do this. It was ridiculous not to be able to do this.

"Next time?" John asked incredulously. "Look, sweetheart," John said softly, pressing a kiss to Sherlock's curls, "It's not nothing." He squeezed him a little tighter, "We don't have to do this," he said. "Lots of people don't like anal sex, you know."

"You want this," Sherlock said softly, his heart aching with the knowledge of the truth of this statement. John did want him this way, he craved this sort of intimacy and tonight had made that undeniably clear.

John was quiet for a long moment, "I won't say that's untrue," John finally said carefully, "Because you'd know that I was lying. But I don't want it like this. I don't get off on my partners not enjoying themselves." John sighed and rested his cheek against Sherlock's curls. "There are all sorts of things we can do Sherlock and if this isn't one of them, that's okay. I don't need to stick my cock in you to feel like we're in a fulfilling relationship."  
Sherlock didn't say anything, he felt completely miserable and like he'd failed John in spite of the kind words coming out of his mouth. In fact, he was fairly certain that John's kindness made it worse and made him feel even more ridiculous.

"We could always do it the other way round," John mused.

"John," Sherlock started uncertainly, "I'm not sure that you penetrating me while I'm on my back is going to be any better." At least if he was on his hands and knees, John wouldn't be able to see his face and could convince himself that Sherlock was enjoying it.

John laughed and Sherlock felt himself cringe even as John pressed a reassuring kiss to his temple. "That's not what I meant," John told him. "I meant that you could always fuck me."

Sherlock froze for a moment, the thought making his brain stall. He could see it in his mind's eye, John on his hands and knees crying out in ecstasy as Sherlock thrust into him, his hair tousled, the sheen of sweat on his skin, his cock dripping as Sherlock thrust into him over and over until he came screaming Sherlock's name.

John trailed his fingers along Sherlock's arm, "So not entirely uninterested, then," he said, a smirk evident in his voice.

"Don't be ridiculous," Sherlock said, clearing his throat uncomfortably, "It's not what you're interested in and I'm not either," he lied.

John hummed in disbelief but left it alone, "I have a better idea for what we should do tonight. Let me up for a minute."

Sherlock leaned forward and let John scooch out from behind him. John was over the edge of the roof and disappearing into the flat a moment later without another word. He couldn't help the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as John left, he wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his chin on them, feeling completely dismal.

John came back just a few minutes later, carrying a rucksack over his shoulder. He grinned at Sherlock as he set it down on the ground and started pulling things out; a large tupperware bowl of microwave popcorn, the remainder of the bottle of wine they'd shared this evening and a second from the pantry, the laptop, and a DVD. He held out the popcorn to Sherlock, "Here, take this."

Sherlock did as he was bid and John got the laptop set up with a James Bond movie, which he knew Sherlock secretly enjoyed even if he outwardly scoffed at them. The two of them laid on the roof and ate popcorn and drank wine while they watched the movie and talked. They bickered and teased one another, half of the popcorn ended up scattered on the roof and blanket because they'd tried tossing it in the air for the other to catch in their mouth and that had ended in handfuls being thrown at one another.

As the night wore on, Sherlock let the guards that had slammed up in the face of his failure start to ease back down. John wasn't going to push, he wasn't going to say anything more, he was just going to be sweet and supportive. He turned and looked at the other man, John was staring at the screen, watching as Bond escaped some sort of impossible scenario. He was grinning and his hair was tousled, his cheeks were rosy from the wine and laughing. Sherlock felt a warmth unfurl in his chest and he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to John's cheek.

John turned and looked at him, "What was that for?" he asked with a soft smile.

"Because I..." Sherlock trailed off, the words dying on the tip of his tongue when he tried to get them out.

John's eyes lit up and he grinned at Sherlock like Sherlock had told him he'd won the lottery.

Sherlock blushed and looked away, "Nothing," he said, clearing his throat and shaking his head.

John smiled all the same and crawled across the blanket, reaching over and turning Sherlock's face toward his so he could kiss him. He cupped Sherlock's face with one hand and kissed him slowly and achingly sweetly for a long moment before he drew back so he could straddle Sherlock's hips, then he cupped his face in both hands and set back into kissing him. He opened his lips against Sherlock's, and the last of his defenses crashed down as he let John back in. There was a profound sort of relief in the kiss, something opened up in Sherlock's chest and he could breathe again.

He wrapped his arms around John's back and grasped his tshirt in his hands, holding tightly onto the other man. John hummed into the kiss and tilted his head, slotting their mouths together smoothly. At the way he kissed him, and the feel of their bodies pressed together, Sherlock found his cock perking up with interest, much to his surprise. After a few more minutes of kissing, John rolled his hips and seemed to take notice of Sherlock's cock. John pulled back and grinned devilishly at Sherlock before he kissed along his jaw to his ear. After he licked the shell of Sherlock's ear and nibbled at the lobe, Sherlock's breath had started to come faster, his heart pounding in anticipation in his throat, John whispered hotly into the shell of Sherlock's ear, "Let me suck you off." John moaned softly in his ear, letting his breath ghost over Sherlock's wet skin and making him shudder.

"John," he groaned, "That's not necessary."

"That wasn't a no," John said with a grin as he pressed Sherlock onto his back and hovered over him, his face framed by the stars above and dim light of the street lamps below. John cupped Sherlock's cheek with one hand and kissed him filthily, before sliding his lips to Sherlock's other ear and fellating that one as well. Sherlock's toes curled against the blanket and his hips pressed upward. He clenched John's tshirt in his fingers, digging into the muscles in John's shoulders. "Just imagine having your cock sucked outdoors," John murmured in the low, sultry voice that Sherlock associated strictly with seduction. John sucked on his earlobe for a moment before pulling off, "There's something inherently dirty about being naked outdoors." John flicked his tongue against Sherlock's earlobe, "No one can see us up here," he whispered softly, "But somehow it seems like they could."

His hand trailed down Sherlock's torso even as he went back to sucking on Sherlock's earlobe, and then his palm was cupping the bulge of Sherlock's erection through his sweatpants. His hips buck involuntarily, pressing his cock into John's palm, he moaned piteously and he felt John grin against his neck. "You're a bad, bad man," Sherlock murmured.

John drew back from Sherlock's ear and pressed a kiss to his lips as he gave his cock a squeeze through his trousers. "I can't help it," John whispered and Sherlock opened his eyes to find John already staring down at him. "You make me want to do all sorts of filthy, deplorable things to you."

"Best crack on then," Sherlock said breathlessly.

"I think you're right," John said with a nod. He started to slide down Sherlock's torso, sucking at his nipple through the tshirt and making Sherlock jump like he'd been electrocuted, his cock jerking in John's hand. "Someday," John murmured as he trailed his lips to Sherlock's other nipple to nibble on that through his shirt for a moment, "I'm going to make you orgasm just by playing with your nipples." He bit down a bit harder and Sherlock shuddered, arching into John's mouth. "Would you like that?"  
Sherlock shuddered, "Yes," he breathed.

"You're perfection," John murmured and then he was pulling away from Sherlock's nipples and sitting up.

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked down at John where he was moving so he could tug at Sherlock's sweat pants, "Lift up," John instructed and Sherlock raised his hips so John could pull his trousers past his bum. John took his pants off entirely, leaving Sherlock's bottom half completely exposed to the night. "Fuck you're beautiful," John whispered.

Sherlock bit his lip, his cheeks heating under John's gaze, then before Sherlock had to say anything, John was bending down and suckling the head of Sherlock's cock, holding his prick with one hand so his tongue could delve under Sherlock's foreskin. Sherlock cried out, his voice seeming loud to his own ears when he was outside. "John," he cried.

John hummed and Sherlock reveled in the way the vibrations felt on his sensitive shaft. His mouth was soft and gentle, it was loose and warm and it made Sherlock's thighs quiver and his toes curl and uncurl against the blanket. Sherlock slid his fingers into John's hair, clenching in the hair at the nape of John's neck. John started to slowly bob his head, pressing his skull into Sherlock's hands. Sherlock moved his hands to free John and give him the space he needed to maneuver but John pulled off his cock entirely then, "Show me," he whispered as he reached up and took Sherlock's hand and pressed it back into his hair, "Show me know fast you want me to move."

"John-" Sherlock started, unsure about wanting to be given this sort of trust.

"Show me," John said again, lowering his mouth to Sherlock's cock but maintaining eye contact with the other man.

Sherlock nodded shakily and let his fingers slide into John's hair again, it was surprisingly thick for how fine it was. John groaned and his eyes drifted shut in apparent delight as Sherlock scratched lightly at his skull. Gently, carefully, Sherlock pressed John's head down a bit and John followed his movements, lowering his mouth on Sherlock's cock and sucking lightly at it. Sherlock moaned, "Please," he whispered. "Please." He wasn't entirely sure what he was asking for but John seemed to know. He started bobbing his head, following Sherlock's guidance but lowering himself further onto Sherlock's cock than Sherlock would have guided him to do.

Sherlock's hips rolled minutely, pressing up off the roof slightly and John groaned, working his head in a counter rhythm to Sherlock, sinking down as Sherlock pressed up. Sherlock opened his eyes and stared up at the stars and it felt like he was floating, it felt like he was drifting out among the stars, lost except for John tethering him. His fingers clenched in John's hair and John slurped around his cock, moaning as he slid up and then lowered himself once again. "Don't stop," Sherlock whispered, his toes clenching and unclenching as heat pooled at the core of his body. "Please," Sherlock whispered again.

John groaned and let his head sink down further on Sherlock's cock, following his hips back to the blanket and sinking down until his nose pressed against Sherlock's groin. "Ah," Sherlock cried, his fingers tugging at John's hair, John swallowed around Sherlock's cock before sliding back up. They set a rhythm between them once more and John let Sherlock thrust shallowly into his warm, soft mouth. Sherlock's hips started to press a bit faster, rolling into John's mouth as he cried out softly over and over again. "Please," Sherlock whimpered. "Please John." His whole spine arched off of the blanket and his fingers and toes felt tingly, "I need," he cried. "Please."

John caught his hips in his hands and held him as he sunk down fully on his cock once more, swallowing around Sherlock's head and sucking hard as he drew back off. "Yes!' Sherlock cried, his fingers spasming in John's hair, "Yes! Don't stop, please."

John didn't stop, he slid his head back down once more, wiggling his tongue along the underside of Sherlock's cock and sinking fully. He swallowed around Sherlock's cock once and then Sherlock was coming. Sherlock arched into John's mouth and cried out unintelligibly.

The next thing Sherlock knew, John's mouth was no longer around his cock, and his sweatpants were back on. He was wrapped in John's arms his face pressed into John's shoulder. "John?" Sherlock whispered.

"Oh, hello sweetheart," John murmured back, his own voice sounding sleepy. John pressed a kiss to Sherlock's forehead, "You're incredible," he whispered as though Sherlock had done something worthy of being praised simply by having an orgasm.

Sherlock sat up a bit, "Do you want.." he trailed off uncertainly, gesturing vaguely at the erection he could see tenting John's trousers.

"That's alright," John said softly, pulling Sherlock back into his arms. "You don't have to, sweetheart."

Sherlock bit his lip, "I want to."

John drew away so he could look at Sherlock's face, "You don't need to feel obligated. I'll be totally fine if you just want to take a little rest."

Sherlock let his hand trail down far enough to reach into John's trousers and clasp his erection, John's head tilted back against the roof and he let out a low groan. Sherlock stroked him in his hand, spreading some of the prcome on John's tip down his shaft. "I want to," Sherlock murmured again.

"Then, yes," John moaned. "Touch me," he whispered, "Yes."

Sherlock felt a light in the pit of his stomach at John's words. "Touch you how?" Sherlock asked innocently, tugging John's trousers down and exposing him to the night air.

John groaned and his fingers came up to twist in Sherlock's curls. "Sherlock," he groaned.

"Touch you how?" Sherlock reiterated, running his fingers teasingly along John's cock.

"Give me your hand," John said, reaching down and grasping Sherlock's wrist.

Surprised, Sherlock released his cock and let John guide his hand to his mouth. John sucked each of Sherlock's fingers into his mouth, then licked his palm until Sherlock's hand was wet with saliva before guiding his hand back to his cock.

"Stroke me," he murmured. Sherlock teasingly ran his fist up and down John's cock. "Oh," John whispered, his voice desperate and pleading. "Harder," he begged. "Please, Sherlock."

Sherlock gripped him tighter, sliding his fist up and down John's cock, spreading his spit and easing his way.

"Yes," John moaned. "Oh, yes, baby," he moaned, his fingers scratching lightly at Sherlock's scalp. Sherlock's stomach fluttered at the pet name and he leaned in to press a kiss to John's neck.

"Talk to me," Sherlock whispered, nipping at the skin on John's neck.

"Touch me," John pleaded, "Don't stop. Don't stop."

"What else?" Sherlock prompted. "What are you imagining? What do you want?"

"This," John breathed, he turned his head to face Sherlock, "Kiss me," he begged.

Sherlock obliged him and John ravaged Sherlock's mouth, delving inside with his tongue and kissing Sherlock hotly.

"You're incredible," John moaned. "Your hands are perfect, your mouth is perfect, you're perfect. Please Sherlock, faster," John whimpered, his hips pressing into Sherlock's hand. "Twist around the head." Sherlock obeyed and John brought his lips back to Sherlock's kissing him and letting out a moan simultaneously. "Yes," he whimpered, nipping at Sherlock's bottom lip. "Yes, don't stop. I'm going to come," he moaned.

Sherlock squeezed his cock harder, spreading the copious amount of precome leaking from John's tip down the rest of his shaft.

"I'm going to come," he whimpered again, "Don't stop. Don't-" he broke off to moan as his cock spurted. He pressed his mouth to Sherlock's and kissed him as his body jerked and he came down from his orgasm. "You're fantastic," John groaned when he pulled back.

Sherlock reached for the corner of the blanket and wiped off John's stomach followed by his hand. "You're fantastic," he whispered back as he snuggled into John's side.

John froze under him, "Do you really think so?" he asked softly.

Sherlock opened one eye to look at him, "Of course I do."

John smiled at him and pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock cleared his throat but couldn't push the smile off his face, "Now, will you let me sleep?"

John chuckled and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's forhead, "Yeah, I s'pose." John's hand stroked Sherlock's arm slowly, and Sherlock fancied he could feel John's affection in the gesture. When Sherlock had almost drifted off, John's voice whispered, "I love you," so softly that Sherlock could barely hear him, which Sherlock imagined was the point. John had been very conscientious of what Sherlock had said about his inability to take those words seriously. He'd been true to his word about showing him everyday, though, Sherlock thought groggily. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to John's chest and John held him tighter for a moment. It wasn't another minute before Sherlock had drifted off to sleep.

Eventually the two of them got cold and they climbed down off the roof and back into the flat. They crawled into bed and snuggled up to one another as they drifted off to sleep once more.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left such lovely comments on this work. I am always touched by the kindness and encouragement of the wonderful people who take the time to read my works. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. <3

_John_

It was highly atypical but John was the first one to wake up the next morning. He stroked the curls back off Sherlock's forehead and brushed his lips over the soft skin he'd revealed. He harbored a ridiculous amount of affection for this man, so much that sometimes when he looked at him, he wondered if his heart might burst.

His gut clenched just thinking about what a disaster the night before had been, how terribly he'd made the other man feel. He'd known in the pit of his stomach that something had been wrong, he should have listened to his instincts. He should have thought about it, should have realized that the things Victor had put Sherlock though were horrible and traumatic, he should have asked him.

He looked back down at the man he held in his arms, Sherlock's face was relaxed in his sleep, his eyelashes curled against his cheeks, his breathing slow and steady, his fingers were clenched in John's tshirt over the center of his chest. John couldn't remember a time when he had felt so much for a person. How anyone could hurt this beautiful, amazing person was completely beyond him.  Never again, John promised himself. He stroked his fingers through Sherlock's curls and pressed another kiss to the top of his head. As he watched, Sherlock's nose scrunched slightly, then his leg, which had insinuated itself between John's during the night, wrapped a little more tightly around John's thigh, sliding up and down a bit before Sherlock's hips rocked to pressed his morning erection against John's hip.

John felt his own cock give a twitch at the prospect of morning sex, he did so love morning sex. Sherlock's spine curved and arched under his arm so he could press his hips more firmly toward John. "Are you awake?" John murmured softly.

"Mmmmh, which answer gets you to have sex with me?" Sherlock's voice, still deep and gravelly from sleep, rumbled out.

John chuckled and pressed another quick kiss to Sherlock's forehead, "Yes is the correct response."

"Then yes." Sherlock said and John could feel him grinning against his shoulder, even if he still hadn't opened his eyes.

John paused to think for a moment; normally, he would just jump into sex but this morning felt a bit different. He wanted Sherlock to thoroughly enjoy himself and he also wanted to plant the seed a little deeper in the other man's mind about Sherlock fucking him. He was curious if it was something Sherlock had actually been interested in or not; it wouldn't be John's first time bottoming and maybe this was a way to take this step together.

"Lift up," John said, squirming out from under Sherlock in spite of the other man's grumbling. He rolled onto his side and pressed his arse back into Sherlock's groin. He rolled his hips leisurely, rotating smoothly and grinding back against Sherlock's cock.

Sherlock hummed low in his throat and his arms instinctively wrapped around John's torso and his lips pressed to John's neck. "You have a fantastic arse," Sherlock murmured, his hips rocking smoothly against John's bottom.

John smiled and reached behind himself, holding Sherlock's hip so he could grind back against the other man more firmly. He tilted his head back and pressed his neck to Sherlock's lips. "Get naked," John murmured.

Sherlock nipped at John's neck and John bit back a groan, then Sherlock was pulling away, much to John's displeasure, and squirming out of his sweatpants. John groaned and forced himself to do the same, stripping out of his bottoms and tshirt quickly and efficiently before pressing back against the other man once more. John groaned at the feeling of Sherlock's skin touching his own, it made his whole body hot and achy, "Yes," John whispered, "I love the way you feel."

Sherlock buried his nose in John's neck and nodded in apparent agreement, squirming so their bodies were pressed impossibly closer to one another.

"That's it," John murmured, "You're perfect," he encouraged huskily as he reached over into the nightstand and grabbed a tube of lube out. He spread some on his fingers, then reached back and stroked it teasingly over Sherlock's cock.

"John," Sherlock whimpered, rolling his hips awkwardly into John's fist.  "There are much better ways for you to stroke my cock."

"Stroking your cock is not my goal," John said with a chuckle.

"Tease," Sherlock murmured without any heat.

"You'll like this better, I promise," John assured him.  Once Sherlock's cock was nice and slick John lifted his thigh and guided Sherlock's cock in between, he squirmed a bit until Sherlock's cock was pressed between his thighs and angled so he could feel it slide between his buttocks. "Sherlock," John moaned breathily at the feel of the other man touching him there, and he wished he could say the breathiness in his voice was just for effect, but having Sherlock in this position was ridiculously arousing.

John rocked his hips and Sherlock's cock slid back and then forward again, "Fuck," Sherlock groaned as he leaned in and sucked a bruise into John's shoulder.

"Mmhmm," John hummed, thinking that was rather the point, as he began rocking his hips against Sherlock. "Yes," he moaned softly as Sherlock began to rock in time with him. "That's it," he groaned. "You feel so good," he murmured, his voice coming out dark and husky as he squirmed to get Sherlock's cock seated more deeply between his buttocks. "Fuck your perfect cock right between my cheeks," John gasped, arching his back to press himself closer to the other man. He cried out as Sherlock complied, angling his hips and rubbing his cock over that sensitive strip of John's flesh. "Yes," John panted. "Oh fuck yes."

The heat of Sherlock's breath on his neck urged John faster, sweat was starting to form between their bodies, their skin sliding sinuously against the other's. He took Sherlock's hand and drew it firmly around his chest, pulling Sherlock's body even closer to his own. He groaned, "Your cock feels amazing. Imagine how much better this would be if I was opened up and you could slip your cock right inside of me," he let out a helpless whimper at the thought. "Imagine how hot and tight I would be wrapping around your cock, clinging to you and milking you dry."

Sherlock groaned as he reached down to wrap his hand around John's cock.

"Tell me you'd like it, baby," John murmured. "Tell me you want to feel me around you. You can have me anyway you want," he said, his voice taking on a desperate, pleading tone he hadn't intended it to. "You can have me in the bed on my back with my thighs wrapped around your waist. Or on the floor with my arse in the air and face on the ground. You can take me over the arm of the sofa," John groaned. "Or," he paused to moan at the thought of the next one, "In the shower when we're all slicked up and covered in soap. The soap holder is the perfect height for me to put my foot on so you can drive your hard cock into me over and over until I come."

"John," Sherlock whimpered, his hips pumping faster now, his hand clenching tighter around John's cock.

"Tell me you want it," John begged, "Tell me you want to feel the way my hole would clench down like a vice around your prick, tell me you want to feel me orgasm from inside my body, tell me you want to know what it would feel like to have my hole clench and spasm around your cock; milking you dry until your come fills my hole." John paused to groan as Sherlock added a twist at the end of his stroke. "Tell me you want to fill me so full of your come that it's dripping from my hole and leaking out around your cock." _Tell me you'd say you love me,_ John's mind added without his permission. "Tell me you want this as badly as I do."

"I want it," Sherlock gasped. John groaned, his balls clenching at the admission; he squeezed his thighs tighter around Sherlock's cock. "Fuck, I want that. I want you, so badly."

John moaned, "Yes," he hissed. He could feel Sherlock's body tensing behind him, the other man must be getting close. "Tell me you want to fuck me, Sherlock."

"Oh," Sherlock groaned, his hips stuttering, "I want to fuck you," he gasped out. "I want to fuck you," he repeated. "Please, John. I want to press my cock inside of you and feel you come around me, I want you to come because my cock was inside of you. I want to fuck you."

John clenched tightly around Sherlock's cock, adding a twist and roll of the hips, and Sherlock lost it, spilling his come all over John's thighs. "Yes," John groaned.

Sherlock stroked John's cock, squeezing him tightly and twisting his wrists when he got to the head; four more strokes and John was lost, too.

When they both came down from their orgasms John rolled over and grinned at Sherlock.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John, "That was a dirty trick."

John leaned in and pressed a kiss to the other man's lips, "Hardly. I had a hunch and I was right. Call it an experiment; I made a hypothesis, performed the experiment, and reached a conclusion."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "You're being ridiculous." He sat up, leaning his back against the headboard. John rolled on his side and propped his head in his hand to look up at Sherlock. Sherlock brushed John's fringe back off his forehead and John basked in the sweetness of that gesture. "You feel guilty about what happened last night, even though it wasn't your fault, and you're trying to make it up to me. Let me assure you that is unnecessary. Please also allow me to assure you it isn't going to happen. Maybe it's a nice idea in theory," Sherlock said, as though he were conceding a major point, "But that's all it is; an idea, a fantasy." Sherlock looked away from him then, fixing his eyes on something in the corner of the room, when he spoke again, his voice was so low John could barely hear him. "I don't want to hurt you John."

"Hurt me?" John asked, he rubbed Sherlock's thigh soothingly to draw his attention, "What do you mean you don't want to hurt me?"

Sherlock looked at him, an incredulous look on his face, "I mean I'm not going to stick something inside of your body where it doesn't belong just to satisfy my base needs. Anal sex is painful and I have no desire to inflict that upon you."

John stared at him, mouth completely agape as he tried to process the words that had just come out of Sherlock's mouth; the high from the orgasm he'd just shared with Sherlock dissipating as if it had never been there in the first place. There were so many things entirely wrong about what he had just said and John felt sick to his stomach at the idea that Sherlock felt this way about anal sex and had still tried to let John fuck him last night. "Sherlock," John whispered, his heart aching in his chest.

Sherlock drew back like John had hit him, "No," he snapped at John, pulling away sharply and moving to the edge of the bed as though he were going to get out, "Don't do that. Don't pity me," he spat.

This was an impossible line for John to tread, say too much and he'd push the other man away, say too little and Sherlock would think he didn't care. He never had the right words, never knew what to say. John hated this fucking line. "Is that what you think of me?" John asked, his voice coming out small. "Do you thing I just want to satisfy my base instincts with a complete disregard for your body? For you?"

Sherlock shrugged.

John took a deep breath and held it for a long moment, deciding not to push it, even though it made him physically ill to imagine that Sherlock could think something like that about him. He blew out the breath, "Anal sex isn't always painful."

Sherlock scoffed and still didn't look at him.

"I mean, maybe a little bit, but with proper preparation it doesn't have to hurt." Sherlock still refused to turn and look at him. "I have bottomed before, you know."

At that Sherlock glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing slightly as though he could quite believe what John was saying.

"It's true," John said with a shrug. "I've always enjoyed it."

Sherlock continued to stare at him as though he was reevaluating John all together and for all John knew he very well might be.

"Sherlock," John said softly, reaching out and touching the other man's shoulder as he sat up, "Why didn't you tell me you felt this way? Why didn't you tell me you hated anal sex? We never would have tried it."

"Because it's something you want," Sherlock said, his voice sounding helpless and defeated. "And because when you talk about it when we're having sex, I want it too," he added in a voice so soft John could hardly hear him. "The idea of having a part of you inside of me, of being..." Sherlock trailed off as though he didn't know what word he was looking for, "Connected to you that way, is appealing."

John turned Sherlock's face toward him and leaned forward to brush his lips over Sherlock's, "And to think, you had me believing I was the romantic one."

Sherlock shook his head, his nose crinkling, "I'm not romantic."

"Sure, sure," John teased, "Keep telling yourself that." John let the grin fade from his face, "I meant what I said, I like bottoming. If you want to be connected that way, we could try it." Sherlock chewed at his bottom lip and John decided to stop pressing, "Just think about it, alright?"

Sherlock nodded once.

"Perfect," John said, feeling hopeful in spite of himself. He leaned forward to peck Sherlock's lips with his own. "Now let's go take a shower. You've made me completely filthy."


	3. Chapter 3

_Sherlock_

Sherlock had been loathe to drag himself out of bed this morning to go and take a final for one of his classes.  It was, in part, because he resented having to go to take a test to answer questions which he'd known the answers to since he was a child.

But the larger part was John.

John had the day off from the hospital today, so when Sherlock had woken up to go take his final, John was still in bed.  John had been half awake when Sherlock's alarm went off and he'd hummed at Sherlock before reaching out for him without opening his eyes, and drawing his face forward to kiss him.  He murmured a sleepy, "Good luck with your final," before settling back into the blankets and pillows, wrapping Sherlock's pillow in his arms instead of Sherlock.  Sherlock had never felt so resentful of an inanimate object in his life.

But he was done now, he'd taken the last final of the semester and finished it in under forty minutes; he'd left and headed back to the flat, picturing John still asleep in their bed.  He could practically see his sleep warmed skin, his eyes still closed, and breathing slow.  Maybe he could slide back in bed and warm up his cold toes on John's legs, John would laugh and they could kiss and do all other manner of things.  

So lost was he in his imaginings, that he almost missed the soft sound of John moaning in the bedroom before he entered.  Had it not been for Sherlock's own name passing John's lips, he might not have registered it at all before he enter the bedroom.  But he heard his name, and then another desperate whimper, John was having a wank.  He couldn't help the grin that lit up his face, he loved when John fantasized about him, it gave him a thrill in the pit of his stomach.  It made him feel oddly cherished and valued; he realized there was something wrong with his psyche for feeling this way, but he didn't waste any time thinking about it.  Instead, Sherlock grinned and pressed open the door, thinking he was just in time to join John.

Sherlock was not at all prepared for the sight that met him when he entered their bedroom.  John was on his hands and knees with his arse facing the doorway.  In and of itself, this position wasn't necessarily out of the ordinary; Sherlock had walked in on him in a similar position, pressing his cock through his fist and back again, but today was different. 

Today, John had three of his fingers stretching his hole and he was moaning uncontrollably; his cock was hanging heavy between his legs as he desperately rutted against his fingers.  "Oh," John cried out, breaking Sherlock from his stupor.  John's body jerked and his cock twitched and Sherlock could only assume he'd brushed his fingers along his prostate.  "Sherlock, please," John begged the imaginary Sherlock.

With those words the last vestiges of Sherlock's (admittedly limited) self control snapped.  He hadn't been able to get the picture of John bottoming out of his mind ever since John had brought it up two weeks ago.  He'd tried, but John's assurance that he'd bottomed before and enjoyed it, rang through Sherlock's mind.  Sherlock was at John's side without a conscious thought, "John," he murmured, reverently stroking his fingers along John's where they were pressed into his hole.

"Yes!" John cried out at his touch, "Oh, Sherlock please," he begged again, withdrawing his own fingers.  "Please, I need you," he whimpered.  "Fill me."

Sherlock found himself nodding dumbly and reaching for the lube.  He poured a generous amount onto his fingers before pressing a slicked finger into John's hole.

"Oh," John moaned, long and low as Sherlock rubbed the inner walls of John's body, exploring the smooth, hot skin.  "More," John keened.

Sherlock pressed a second finger in and he felt his cock twitch painfully inside of his constraining trousers.  Feeling John clenching and unclenching around his fingers as he moaned and writhed on the bed had Sherlock's toes curling in his shoes and heat pooling in the pit of his belly.

"Move, Sherlock," John gasped, "Please.  Move your fingers." 

Sherlock did as he was bid, drawing his fingers out and pressing them back into John's body.  The whole thing felt surreal, he almost couldn't believe he was standing here pressing his fingers inside of John's body and touching him this way.

"Bend your fingers," John said desperately.  

Sherlock broke out of his stupor to do what John asked, angling his fingers and bending them.

"Down," John groaned, "Crook your fingers down.  Touch my prostate."  

Sherlock twisted his hand until he could crook his fingers the right way, searching until he happened to brush them along that tiny, sensitive bundle of nerves.  He knew the moment he found it because John practically screamed and his hole clenched and unclenched around Sherlock's fingers.

"Yes," John moaned, his voice high and tight.  "Yes, oh, don't stop," he pleaded.  "Sherlock."

Sherlock continued to rub at John's prostate, entranced by the way John shuddered and writhed under his hands.  He reached over and spread John's buttocks with his left hand so he could see his right hand moving in and out of John's hole better.  John moaned something unintelligible and he spread his legs further.  Sherlock was completely in awe of how much John was enjoying this; even if John had told him he liked this, it was a different manner entirely to see it for himself.  "Do you really like this?" Sherlock asked, but his eyes told him John did, he didn't think he'd ever seen John's cock this hard.

"Yes," John moaned desperately.  "Oh, fuck yes." Sherlock pressed against his prostate a little more firmly, rubbing a circle over and around it with his fingers.  John let out a wailing "Uhhn," sound that Sherlock thought he could listen to for the rest of his life.  John's hips thrust into the empty air and Sherlock watched in fascination as a long pearly string of precome dripped from John's cock and onto the sheet.  "Yes," John begged.  "Keep doing that, please Sherlock.  Fuck yes.  So good, baby," he cried out, his hips circling in an obvious effort to keep Sherlock's fingers pressing on that sweet spot.  "That feels so, oh!" he cried, "So good.  Don't stop.  Please don't stop."

Sherlock obeyed, rubbing at John's prostate over and over again.  After a few minutes of watching John try to fuck himself on his fingers, Sherlock took the hint and started to draw his fingers in and out of John's hole, taking care to brush over John's prostate every time he moved his fingers in or out.

"Yes!" John cried frantically, rocking his body in time with Sherlock's thrusts.  "Oh, fuck," he groaned as his cock dribbled more precome onto the bed.

Sherlock reached out to touch John's cock, it was so hard, so red, it had to be painful at this point.  

"No," John groaned, batting Sherlock's hand away.  "Please let me come around your fingers," he begged, "Please don't stop.  It's so good."

"You can come just from having my fingers inside of you?" Sherlock asked skeptically.

John groaned and nodded frantically against the bed.  "Yes," he exhaled as Sherlock twisted his fingers on the way out and drove them back into John's body a bit more forcefully.  "Oh," he whimpered, thrusting his arse back further on Sherlock's hand.  "Yes, Sherlock.  Keep fucking me with those perfect, long fingers and I'll come so fucking hard."  

Sherlock bit the inside of his lip, he was so hard he was in physical pain.

"Harder," John begged.

Sherlock obliged him, pressing in faster and grinding against his prostate harder.

"Uhhn," John whimpered, his cock twitching between his legs.  "Oh, yes.  Like that, baby," John whined, "Please, fuck me Sherock.  Don't stop."

"I won't," Sherlock assured him, his voice coming out dark and lusty.  He squeezed his own cock through his trousers, trying to give himself a bit of relief as he imagined John clenching around his cock instead of his fingers.

"Sherlock," John cried desperately, his voice cracking.  "Please," he moaned again, "Oh, don't stop.  Don't stop," he repeated, his voice louder and higher the second time, "I'm almost there."

Sherlock kept up the pace, even though his hand was starting to cramp and his fingers ached from holding this position.  Sherlock leaned in and nipped at the tender skin on the back of John's neck, "Are you going to come for me, John?" Sherlock rumbled in John's ear.  His hand unintentionally squeezed around his own cock in his trousers and he moaned which seemed to only ratchet John's arousal up another notch, his body bucking against Sherlock's fingers.  "Imagine if I were fucking you with my cock instead," Sherlock whispered.

John cried out in what almost sounded like agony, "Yes," he hissed.  "Oh Sherlock, imagine you cock.  So thick and hard," he groaned and his muscles clamped tighter around Sherlock's fingers, the fingers on Sherlock's other hand clenched his own cock tighter in response. "And long," John whimpered. "So long.  Pressing in over and over, and fucking into my prostate.  Oh yes, that's beautiful.  Yes, your hard cock inside of my tight little hole.  Oh, I'd let you fuck me so hard, Sherlock.  "Fuck me harder and harder, faster and- oh!" John groaned and shuddered before continuing, "Faster.  And I'd-" he stuttered as Sherlock ground against his prostate thrusting his fingers in harder, "Oh, fuck yes," John encouraged before he continued through his panting breath.  "And I'd clamp down so hard on your cock Sherlock.  Oh, you'll feel amazing, my hole will clench so hard around you and milk you dry," John said breathlessly, his voice desperate.  "Yes!" he cried as Sherlock stopped thrusting for a moment to grind his fingers against John's prostate.  Sherlock twisted his fingers and John wailed, "Yes.  Oh!  I'm coming, Sherlock," he cried and Sherlock watched as John's cock twitched and ejaculate spouted out of John's cock and covered their sheets.  John's anus clenched around Sherlock's fingers, locking them in place as his hips bucked and twitched.

And the feeling of John's hole clenching and spasming around Sherlock's fingers was all it took, Sherlock doubled over and came in his pants, his hips pressing forward to grind his cock against his palm.  "John," Sherlock whimpered hoarsely.

After a long moment, John collapsed forward into the mattress and moaned pitifully when the motion withdrew Sherlock's fingers.  "Come here," John murmured as he rolled over onto his back.  "Let me suck you or touch you," John begged.  "Let me give you so modicum of the pleasure you just gave me."  He opened his blue eyes and stared up blissfully at Sherlock, his hand reaching out lazily toward Sherlock.

Sherlock couldn't find words so he just shook his head and tried to stand upright.  He needed to get out of these trousers and pants, it was mortifying that he'd just come in them like an adolescent.

John's eyes clouded over and his eyebrows drew together, "I'm sorry," John whispered.  "I just couldn't stop thinking about it, I couldn't stop imagining your cock inside of me.  I just needed to feel something touching me, filling me; I'm not trying to pressure you, I swear.  Please, let me do something for you."

"Hush," Sherlock said softly, leaning in and pressing his lips to John's in a chaste peck, wanting to see John's eyes soft and happy the way they'd been a moment ago.  "I don't feel like you were trying to pressure me, you had no reason to think I was coming home early."

"The why-" John started before trailing off as his eyes darted down to Sherlock's crotch and obviously noted the wet patch that was spreading.  "Seriously?" John asked, looking up at Sherlock with wide eyes.

"Yes," Sherlock said, huffing impatiently as he rolled his eyes and started undoing his trousers.

John knelt up on the bed and pulled Sherlock into his body by the collar of his shirt, his hand slid down Sherlock chest and dipped inside of his open trousers to give Sherlock's sensitive cock a squeeze.  Sherlock whimpered and John leaned in and ravaged Sherlock's mouth, cupping his face in his palm and tilting his head to gain access to Sherlock's mouth.  After a long moment, John drew back, "You are ridiculously sexy."

"I came in my pants like a 12 year old, John.  That's hardly sexy," Sherlock protested.

John hands moved to the buttons on Sherlock's shirt and he kissed him for another long moment.  "That is incredibly sexy.  Now get those trousers off and get into bed.  I want a nap and then I want to have sex again."

Sherlock laughed against John's mouth, "I will never understand you," he said as he slid his trousers and pants down his hips and kicked them off.

"Good," John said, waggling his eyebrows and tugging Sherlock into bed, "Then you'll never get bored."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come soon!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There has been an abhorrent delay in posting this next chapter for multiple reasons; in short order, I was working 2 jobs, going to grad school (part time), and a whole bunch of personal crap that I won't air out here. In all honesty, I sort of fell into a funk about my writing and just couldn't bring myself to post the things Ive been working on. So, if you were one of the lovely, sweet humans who left me a comment or a kudo on this work (or on any of my other works) thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for the encouragement and kind words you've left me here, they've meant the world to me. 
> 
> Without further ado, here's the next chapter. I'll do my best to update more regularly. 
> 
> Blessings <3

_John_

In spite of the fact that Sherlock had caught John wanking and fantasizing about having his cock inside of him, it would be another couple of weeks before the two of them approach anything resembling anal sex again.  Sherlock was still a bit hesitant and every time John mentioned it Sherlock would glance away and bite his lip before shaking his head. 

But today, was a lazy Sunday afternoon.  The two of them had solved a case the night before and had spent the morning wrapped up in bed together before coming out to eat toast and drink tea at the table. They didn't talk too much but hand and feet brushed over one another, just a quiet assurance that they were both there, they were both okay. After breakfast, they migrated to the sofa, curling up under a blanket and binge watching Netflix.

John watched Sherlock as Sherlock watched the telly and he couldn't resist turning Sherlock's face so he could press their lips together softly.  Sherlock smiled against his lips and kissed him back.  John drew back and brushed his fingers through Sherlock's curls before settling back into the couch.

He repeated the gesture over and over, watching as Sherlock started to squirm and his lips started to move more urgently against John's. And still he pulled away, leaving Sherlock to huff an impatient sigh as John turned to face the show they'd both lost interest in. The next time he turned to steal a kiss, Sherlock wrapped his long fingers around John's face, drawing him in and holding him in place. John groaned against Sherlock's lips and moved to straddle his hips to get a better angle.  His tongue slicked along Sherlock's plush bottom lip and Sherlock shuddered under him, his hands sliding down John's back and brushing featherlight over his arse.  

John groaned against Sherlock's lips and reached back to capture Sherlock's hand and press it to his arse more firmly.  

"You have a really lovely arse," Sherlock said breathlessly, looking up at John with soft, unfocused eyes.

John trailed kisses along his jaw until he reached Sherlock's ear, "You have lovely hands, perfect for touching my arse," John encouraged.  Sherlock shuddered and his hands massaged John's buttocks a bit more firmly.  "Yes," John hissed before he slid his mouth to the other man's ear. He sucked on his earlobe and traced the tip of his tongue around the swirl of Sherlock's inner ear.

Sherlock groaned and his hips rocked up toward John in a search for friction.

John let his hand trail down Sherlock's chest and press against the bulge in Sherlock's pajama bottoms.  "I want you to fuck me," John murmured into Sherlock's ear, breathiling hotly against the damp skin as his fingers rubbed against Sherlock's cock.

Sherlock's fingers clenched in John's buttocks and John let out a soft whimpering sound he might have been ashamed of if he weren't so turned on.  

Sherlock's cock gave a twitch under John's hand at the noise, "John," he whinged desperately, "It's is completely unfair to bring up anal sex when I am in such a compromising position."

John chuckled darkly and flicked his tongue against Sherlock's earlobe.  "I'm not saying you have to," John clarified.  "I'm just informing you that that is what I want."  John groaned softly for effect and nibbled at the other man's ear, "Just imagine it," he whispered.  "We have all the time in the world today.  You could open me up slowly until I'm ridiculously desperate.  You could get my hole so loose and open and relaxed that I'm gaping."

John felt Sherlock shudder and continued, "Then you could bend me over the arm of the sofa, or make me kneel on the floor and you could press your cock inside of me," he said, giving said appendage a squeeze, "You could press in so slowly, Sherlock.  Imagine how you could have me crying out and desperate."

Sherlock groaned, John's name slipping from his lips and John could tell he still wasn't sold.  

"Why don't you just try loosening me up a bit?" John suggested.  "You've had your fingers inside of me before.  That was fantastic, I came so hard," John groaned at the memory of Sherlock's long fingers pressing in and out of his body.  "It felt so amazing, Sherlock, having you inside of me.  I get so hard just thinking about it.  Can we try it again?" John begged.

Sherlock was silent for a moment and John held his breath, waiting and hardly daring to hope.  When Sherlock spoke it was hardly a whisper, "Promise you'll tell me if I hurt you."

John drew back then to look at Sherlock's face, Sherlock was staring resolutely at John's collarbone, avoiding his eyes.  John tucked his head down and pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock's lips.  "I promise," he murmured, stroking his fingers through Sherlock's curls before using his thumbs to angle Sherlock's face toward his.  "You're so so perfect." 

Sherlock laughed without any real mirth and trailed his fingers along the collar of John's tshirt, "You're crazy."

John hummed and leaned into press another kiss to the other man's lips, "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."  He brushed his fingers along the other man's cheeks.

"I want to," Sherlock said quickly, before glancing up at John and meeting his gaze for the first time willingly.  "I really want to," he murmured.  "It's all I can seem to think about lately," Sherlock confessed, slipping his hands down John's back and under his tshirt.  

"Then let's give it a try," John said, has voice breathy from the way Sherlock was touching him.  "I promise to tell you if I don't like it."

Sherlock stared at him for a moment longer then Sherlock gave a shaky nod and started rearranging his body.  John didn't need any more encouragement than that, he pulled his tshirt over his head, enjoying the way Sherlock's gaze raked down his bare torso.  He pressed his lips to Sherlock's once more before the two of them started wiggling and squirming until they were in a position more conducive to their desires.  Sherlock sat with his feet on the floor and back pressed against the sofa and John spread himself across Sherlock's lap with his bum in the air and cock hanging between Sherlock's thighs.  He groaned at the position, his cock twitching as his hips wiggled in anticipation.

Sherlock's hand brushed over his arse through his pajama bottoms, rubbing lightly.  The shock and thrill of Sherlock touching his arse froze John's movement, his entire body coiling tight like a spring as he waited.  It wasn't too long before Sherlock was carefully tugging at the band of John's pajama bottoms, tugging them lower and baring John's arse.  John's breath caught in his throat and he exhaled harshly, his cock was so hard.  He wanted to spread his legs and give Sherlock more room, but Sherlock had trapped his thighs with his pajama bottoms.  "Please, Sherlock," he whispered breathlessly.

Sherlock ran the dry pad of his forefinger teasingly along the crease between John's buttocks and John squirmed and fought to spread his legs further.  His hips tilted up toward Sherlock's fingers, but Sherlock it seemed, had no intention of being rushed.  He brushed his fingers along the seam of John's buttocks until John was panting and his hips were giving tiny abortive thrusts and he was panting.  John buried his face in his arms and let out a groan that sounded like pain.

Sherlock's fingers slipped further between his cheeks and he _finally_  touched John's hole.  "Yes," John hissed as his hips jerked at the contact and he felt precome leak from his cock and onto the cushion under him, he wondered vaguely if there would be a puddle there by the time they were through.

"I can't get over how much you seem to enjoy this," Sherlock said softly.

"You should feel my cock," John said before burying his face in the arm rest and trying his best to channel every ounce of patience he'd ever possessed.

"I could do that," Sherlock murmured as his hand slipped between John's legs and he fondled his balls on the way to John's stiff prick.

"Oh," John whimpered breathily as Sherlock's fist wrapped loosely around John's cock and gave him a teasing stroke.  The tease didn't last long, his fingers trailed back over John's buttocks, delving in between and pressing at John's hole again before moving away entirely.  John might have complained except that he heard the click of the lube bottle being opened, Sherlock poured some straight from the bottle onto his hole and John jerked away from the unexpected cold with a gasp, "Cold," he murmured.

"Sorry," Sherlock said uncertainly, "Should I have-"

"It's fine," assured him, "Just caught me off guard.  But it's fine." And it was fine, he thought dazedly, so much better than fine if it meant that Sherlock's fingers were going to be inside of him.

He heard Sherlock draw a deep steadying breath, then his forefinger was pushing into John's hole, admittedly more firmly than John would have liked.

"Gently," John said softly, even as his body clenched instinctively against the perceived intrusion.  He didn't want to make Sherlock feel badly, or feel any more anxious but he knew if he didn't give him some sort of direction, this was going to hurt him and then he'd scare Sherlock away completely and that wouldn't do. He really wanted to have anal sex with this man.  "You don't have to press inside yet.  Just use a little lube and rub my hole, you have to relax the muscles a bit first."

Sherlock didn't respond, but his fingers gentled and he started rubbing around John's anus, swirling lightly around that tightly furled bit of muscle. 

"Yes," John murmured through a long groan.  "Yes.  Fuck, Sherlock, that's perfect."  It really was, he wanted to cry with how perfect it felt; soft and gentle, it made a heat radiate from the pit of his stomach through his entire body.

"I like this," Sherlock said, his voice soft and John could picture the way his face looked at the moment, open and wondering. "I like the tactile aspect, the way the ridges pucker together." John could hear the other man swallow audibly, "I like how relaxed it makes you." Sherlock's hand moved away for a moment and then his finger returned even wetter than before. John moaned and pressed his hips toward Sherlock's hand. "Can I just do this for a while?"

John nodded, "As long as you want." Sherlock's fingers trailed lower, stopping to rub at John's perineum before tracing back up again. He brushed his fingers over John's hole and all the way up to his coccyx. Then his fingers were back to circling John's hole, John groaned and settled himself across Sherlock's lap more comfortably.

He wasn't sure how long he laid there, just letting Sherlock toy with his hole, but his cock was aching and John could feel the beads of sweat rolling down his back. He felt like he was both completely relaxed and completely wired at the same time. "Maybe just press in a little," John said through panting breaths, "If you're ready?"

Sherlock's finger dipped inside of John's hole then, not far, not even properly breeching the first ring of muscles but they both groaned at the feeling. "You're so much looser already," Sherlock marveled.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart," John encouraged with a nod. Sherlock hummed but didn't reply, pressing his finger just a bit further forward before drawing it back out and tracing circles around John's entrance once more, occassionally pressing lightly (John would have said teasingly, but Sherlock wasn't trying to tease him) against John's hole.

Finally Sherlock's finger slipped in past the first ring of muscles and John let out a strangled moan. "Yes," he groaned, his voice low and husky.

"Alright?" Sherlock asked, his finger circling around the ring of muscles and rubbing at him gently.

"Yes," John whimpered, "Perfect. Just like that, darling," he groaned as Sherlock rocked his finger gently in and out of his body. "Fuck, you're incredible."

Sherlock continued this way, pressing incrementally forward on every pass until he'd breached the second ring, then in until he'd reached his third knuckle. He drew his finger in and out of John's hole torturously slowly and John could hear himself moaning and whimpering, but couldn't bring himself to care.

Sherlock stroked along John's inner walls, rubbing soothing patterns into his heated flesh and John couldn't help the whimpering wail that escaped his lungs, "I love that you're inside of me," he gasped honestly. "I just can't get over how fantastic it feels to have a part of you inside of me. You're perfect," John said with a happy sigh.

"John," Sherlock said softly. John waited to see if he would say anything else, but after a moment, it seemed that was the only thing the other man wanted to say.

"Sherlock?" John said after a long moment.

"Mmh?" the other man hummed back at him.

"Can you use two fingers now?" John asked. "Add some more lube?"

He felt Sherlock freeze for a moment and he held his breath, waiting and hoping he hadn't pushed too hard, too fast. Sherlock's finger withdrew and a heartbeat later two fingers, freshly coated with lube, were circling around his entrance. 

"Uhh," John moaned inarticulately, attempting to spread his legs further. 

Slowly, carefully, Sherlock's fingers worked their way into John's body, pressing forward minutely before dragging back out and circling his entrance once more, then diving back in.

John's fingers clenched in the couch cushions as he gasped, "Oh yes, love," he encouraged. "Mmhmm. That's so good, baby, so perfect." Sherlock's hips twitched minutely under John, so John continued talking. "I love how it feels to have your fingers stretching me so wide, making me so wet." He groaned and thrust his hips futily, the head of his cock dragged against the sofa but didn't provide much relief. "How does it feel?"

"Good," Sherlock said, his voice sounding soft and a bit dazed, "I like watching my fingers disappearing in and out of your hole, watching you stretch around me, it's mesmerizing."

John groaned, "Imagine how it would be watching your cock press in and out," Sherlock's fingers moved a bit faster, twisting a bit on the way and John moaned, his hole clutching at Sherlock's fingers. "Unnff, Yes!" John cried, "Yes, don't stop. Don't stop."

"I won't," Sherlock assured.

And he didn't, he kept pressing in over and over and John found a constant stream of incoherent babble and moaning slip from his lips. Then Sherlock crooked his fingers and John cried out, his hips slammed backward and his hole clenched around Sherlock's fingers and he came. John's orgasm washed through his body in a rush, leaving him trembling as Sherlock brushed the tips of his fingers over John's prostrate and made vague, soothing noises. 

The fingers of Sherlock's unoccupied hand carded through John's hair as his fingers teasing his prostrate drew back. John assumed Sherlock would withdraw his fingers entirely, but that didn't happen. Instead, Sherlock's fingers continued to stroke in and out of John's hole, stretching gently. Sherlock's other hand trailed lightly down John's spine, causing John to shudder a soft groan slipping from his lips. The touches made him dizzy with a feeling he didn't have a name for. He stretched and relaxed back across Sherlock's lap, humming contentedly.

"Can I make you come again like this?" Sherlock asked softly.

"Anytime," John promised, feeling a bit giddy that Sherlock wanted to do this again.

"I mean right now," Sherlock clarified.

John squirmed a bit so he could look over his shoulder at Sherlock without dislodging his fingers, "I don't know," he said honestly. "I've never had two orgasms in rapid succession. But you're welcome to try, especially if it means you're going to keep your fingers inside of me."

"You like this?" Sherlock asked, even though John had answered the question a dozen times.

"Yes," John said softly, maintaining eye contact when he said it.

The corner of Sherlock's lips quirked up in a grin, "Then relax," he said, tenderly brushing the fringe from John's face.

John grinned back before squirming once more to lay himself out across Sherlock's lap.

Sherlock's fingers, which had paused in their movement when they were talking, resumed their careful exploration. After a moment Sherlock's other hand slid down John's back until it reached his buttocks, then the clever fingers were delving between John's buttocks and spreading them apart. 

John moaned, and his still flaccid member twitched in apparent appreciation for the gesture. "Oh," he whimpered.

"Alright?" Sherlock asked softly.

"Yes," John said through a groan. "Fantastic."

Sherlock gave a soft, pleased hum and then his gentle fingers were curiously brushing along John's hole spread around his fingers.

"Sherlock," John managed through a strangled moan, "Fuck."

Sherlock's fingers departed but only long enough for him to fetch the lube bottle, John heard the snick of the cap, then two fingers were pressing back inside of him again but the angle was different, Sherlock must have switched hands. He assumed that Sherlock's wrist had hurt, or maybe his fingers were cramping, but then Sherlock's other hand was dragging John's pyjama trousers the rest of the way off. John groaned and kicked his legs in an attempt to assist the other man.

He thought that had been a marvelous idea as he spread his legs for Sherlock, then he stopped thinking entirely a moment later when Sherlock's hand returned to his body with more lube. His fingers massaged the skin between his hole and his balls, rubbing sensuously at his perineum.

John spread his thighs further apart, giving Sherlock more room to maneuver. "Fuck," he groaned as Sherlock rubbed over his sensitive flesh with his knuckle. "Sherlock."

"You're making my name sound like a curse word," Sherlock said and John could hear the self satisfied smirk in his voice.

John was about to respond, but the words evaporated off his tongue as Sherlock's slick palm slipped lower and he cupped and massaged his balls. "Yes," John groaned, tilting his hips back to give Sherlock better access. "That feels amazing."

Sherlock hummed at him, rolling his balls in his palm as his fingers pressed deeper inside of John's body.

"Oh," John moaned, his fingers clenched more tightly in the couch cushion. The arousal felt different than it usually did, everything was hot and there was a dull ache radiating from the base of his cock into the pit of his stomach. "Sherlock," he breathed.

Sherlock let his fingers trail further, then they were brushing against the base of John's cock.

At his touch, the heat expanded to the rest of his body, "Sherlock," he whimpered desperately.

"I've got you," Sherlock murmured, his voice soft but confident.

John shuddered as Sherlock's fingers wrapped around John's mostly flaccid cock. His fingers trailed down the length of John's shaft before they were drawing his foreskin back over the sensitive head.

John let out a whimpering moan, not entirely sure if it felt good to have Sherlock's fingers on him or not. It was walking the razor's edge between oversensitivity and pleasure, "Oh," he breathed and his hips rolled without his permission. He wasn't sure whether his body was rocking toward or away from the sensation and before he could figure it out he'd rocked back onto Sherlock's fingers far enough that they brushed over his prostate. John's entire body jerked and his cock twitched in Sherlock's hands "Oh," he moaned and he could feel his cock hardening a bit under the attention.

"John," Sherlock breathed, his voice full of wonder. "You're going to come again."

"Well, not this minute, but it would seem you've managed to convince my cock of that," John replied.

Sherlock huffed a laugh and his fingers set to work again, one hand teasing at his cock as the other's fingers brushed over his prostate and the surrounding flesh. Sherlock was gentle and soft and it made John's breath come fast and hard in his chest. He felt a sheen of sweat rising to the surface of his skin as his body shuddered and jerked without a conscious thought.

"You're hard again," Sherlock murmured eventually, and John could hear Sherlock's uneven breathing, feel his arousal pressing up against his belly.

"Add another finger," John said softly.

Sherlock was silent for a moment, "Yes, okay," he said, then he carefully pressed his ring finger against John's slick entrance. 

John groaned and he could feel his cock throbbing in time with his heartbeat as Sherlock carefully breached him. "Yes," he hissed, "Sherlock, fuck."

Sherlock moaned as his fingers slipped into John's hole with an obscene squelch. "John," he said softly. 

"Yes," John replied, gasping at the stretch. He rocked his hips, pressing back against Sherlock's fingers before rocking forward into Sherlock's fist. "Oh," he moaned. "You're amazing," he said, "Fantastic. Fuck, Sherlock. You're perfect."

"John," Sherlock said, his voice strangled. 

"Do you want to fuck me?" John asked, "Because if you do, you need to do it soon."

"Can we just do this?" Sherlock asked.

John nodded, "Yes." He groaned as Sherlock's fingers tapped at his prostate. "Fuck yes."

Sherlock started to move his fingers in earnest then, drawing them out of John's hole and pressing them in again, twisting his wrist as he did and making John moan. 

"Sherlock," he moaned. "Yes," his hips started rocking, pressing harder and faster, fucking himself of Sherlock's fingers and then into his fist. "Yes, fuck," he tugged at his own hair. "I-" he broke off to moan. "I can't get over how good you feel." 

"I feel the same," Sherlock replied.

"I'm going to come," John said through a gasp. He shuddered and a second orgasm was wrung out of his body. "Sherlock," he cried out, clenching hard around his fingers.

When he'd stopped coming, Sherlock carefully drew his fingers out of John's hole, hushing his weak protests, "Shh, you were exquisite," he murmured. John wondered vaguely what Sherlock had wiped his hands off on, because after a moment dry hands were brushing over his sweaty skin. "You are incredible."

John sighed happily and sat up, moving to straddle his still fully clothed lover and kiss him. "You are outstanding," he replied. "Fantastic, delightful, delicious," then John started giggling.

"You're high on serotonin," Sherlock replied, but he was smiling up at John.

John put sloppy kisses on Sherlock's cheeks and chin. "I've got a really brilliant idea."

"Is that so?" Sherlock asked indulgently.

"Yes. It requires you to stand up and get undressed first." John told him as he trailed kisses down Sherlock's neck.

"Your plan requires that you, ah!" Sherlock broke off to gasp as John sucked a bruise into his collarbone where he'd pulled aside his tshrit. "Oh," he moaned, "That you let me stand."

"Yes," John said, licking over the bruise a few times before he climbed off Sherlock's lap. 

Once Sherlock was up and stripping, John moved so he was kneeling on the sofa with spread legs, arms resting on the armrest. He leaned his head down against his hands, watching fondly as Sherlock fought his way out of his tshirt. 

"John," Sherlock started when he saw how John had positioned himself, "I don't want-"

"No, shh," John said reaching out for the other man, "I know." He looked into Sherlock's eyes, "I know."

"Then, what?" Sherlock asked, gesturing at John. 

John grinned and jerked his head, "Get behind me."

Sherlock obeyed and John's heart fluttered at the way Sherlock trust him. Sherlock slid his knees in place between John's and gripped his hips in his palms.

John groaned and leaned back to press his arse against Sherlock's cock, he rubbed against him and Sherlock moaned. "Spread me," John demanded.

"What?" Sherlock asked, sounding a bit dazed.

"Spread me," John said, even as he reached back and grasped both of his buttocks in his hands, spreading himself wide open for Sherlock's perusal. "Now put your cock there."

"John-"

"No," he interrupted, "Not inside of me, just in the crease."

Sherlock exhaled shakily then put his erection where John had suggested. 

"Oh," John moaned, rocking against that hot, hard flesh. "Fuck, you feel amazing." John let go of his buttocks and started rocking in earnest. Sherlock's shaft slicked through the lube still dripping out of John's hole and after a moment Sherlock's hips started pushing back against John. 

"John," he groaned, his fingers clenching tighter at John hips.

"Yes," John replied, his own cock twitching much to his amazement. "Fuck, Sherlock." He reached back and grabbed one of the other man's hands, pulling him forward until Sherlock had sprawled across John's back. 

Sherlock groaned and buried his nose in the crook of John's neck, he wrapped his arms around John's torso and held him tightly.

"Don't stop," John groaned as they rocked together, the couch squeaking and groaning under them. 

"John," Sherlock groaned, he sucked at John's shoulder as he whimpered.

"Sherlock," he replied. "I need you to touch my cock."

Sherlock stilled for a moment and John groaned, clenching his gluteal muscles tighter around Sherlock, "Don't stop," John whinged.

"Sorry," Sherlock mumbled distractedly, then his hand was wrapping around John's half hard cock.

"Oh," John moaned, his legs shaking and threatening to collapse. Sherlock started to stroke him shakily, "No," John said, shuddering with sensitivity. "Just let me," he groaned as Sherlock stilled, leaving his fist as a channel for John again. "Yes, let me fuck into your hand."

"Yes," Sherlock grunted. "John, I think," he moaned, "I think I'm going to come."

"Yes," John encouraged. "Fuck yes, come on, baby." 

Sherlock cried out into John's shoulder and John could feel his body shaking and starting to tense above him.

"Yes," John groaned, "Come on, sweetheart, come for me."

Sherlock bit down on John shoulder and the pain shoved John over the edge and he orgasmed, his cock letting out a weak spurt of ejaculate as he shuddered and tears formed at the back of his eyes. Sherlock cried out and spilled, his come covering John's back and dripping between his buttocks.

John collapsed and Sherlock fell on top of him, they stayed in a pile that way for a long moment before John set about rearranging them so they were laid on their sides, face to face. Sherlock leaned forward and brushed their noses together. 

They lay together, hands brushing across one another's skin soothingly, lips skimming over cheeks, and chins, and noses. "You're incredible," Sherlock eventually murmured, against John's lips.

"I was rather outstanding, wasn't I?" John said.

Sherlock huffed a laugh and his hand playfully slapped John's arse. 

"Mmmh," John rumbled low in his throat. "It's too bad I've only just had three outstanding orgasms."

"You're incorrigible," Sherlock said, but he was smiling. 

John grinned back and fought back those three little words he desperately wanted to say to the other man. He closed his eyes, thinking that if he didn't see him it might be easier to keep himself from word vomiting on the other man.

John had almost drifted off when Sherlock spoke again, "You called me baby."

He opened one eye to look at the other man, "Umm," he searched back, trying to remember. "Sorry?"

"You don't have to apologize," Sherlock said softly.

"Do you like that?" John asked uncertainly.

Sherlock nodded and yawned, pressing in closer to John. "I like pet names when you say them."

"Alright, sugar bear," John teased.

Sherlock snorted and if his eyes had been open, John knew he'd be rolling them. "You're ridiculous."

"Sleep, my honeybee," John murmured, brushing his lips over Sherlock's forehead.

"I like that one," Sherlock mumbled.

"Yeah?" John asked, but there was no response and he realized Sherlock must have fallen asleep. "Sweet dreams, bee," he whispered before falling asleep, too.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sherlock_

Thoughts of anal sex with John were penetrating every aspect of Sherlock’s mind, he was far more obsessed with that tiny bit of puckered flesh than he should be. He dreamt about it, and whenever he gave John a blow job his fingers automatically found their way to John’s hole. By this point Sherlock had laid John across all sorts of surfaces so he could watch his fingers slide in and out of John’s hole while John writhed.

As nervous as Sherlock had been about all of this, John truly seemed to love it, too. Nothing reduced John to a whimpering, begging mess more quickly than the prospect of Sherlock putting his fingers inside of him. As much as he hated to admit that John was right about Sherlock wanting penetrative sex with John, he was right.

And John’s demeanor only made it worse, he would murmur a few soft words and that tiny pink tongue would dart out to wet his lips and Sherlock would be half hard before he could blink. His brain was completely taken over by thoughts of John, what it would feel like, the noises John would make, the soft gasps and whimpers, the wailing as his cock brushed his prostate, the way John’s body would clench around him. Sherlock shuddered just thinking about it.

He was brooding, laying out across the sofa and thinking about how sex had completely taken over his mind (the irony was not lost on him) when John loped into the living room and bent to press his lips to Sherlock’s. Sherlock couldn’t help it, he melted and the brooding fell away as he reached up and grasped John’s face in his fingers.

John hummed and Sherlock could feel his pleased grin against his lips. John pulled back infinitesimally and brushed his nose along Sherlock’s before pressing another quick kiss to Sherlock’s lips.

“Do you know what I was thinking about?”

“Penetrative sex?” Sherlock asked grumpily.

John chuckled, “Always. But I was actually thinking we should go out dancing tonight. It’s been forever since we got out of the apartment for a night out that was just the two of us.”

Sherlock tugged on John until he was sprawled out on top of him and wrapped his arms around his neck, tilting his head up to kiss John again. “We were just out on Tuesday night,” Sherlock reminded him. “We had Chinese.”

“We were out for a case,” John protested. “Which I love, mind you,” he quickly added, “But dinner was just a quick stop between the crime scene and home to have sex. Which I also love, mind you.”

“Then I fail to see what the problem is,” Sherlock said obstinately, even though it wasn’t entirely true.

John grinned and kissed him again before leaning in next to Sherlock’s ear, “Don’t you like the bit of delayed gratification that happens when we go dancing? The way my body will feel under your hands as we move together, our skin damp with sweat, your lips on my neck and shoulders, hands occasionally slipping to grope arses and hips, the brush of a half hard erection as we sway against one another. Don’t you want it, Sherlock?”

“I want you,” Sherlock said, pressing his partially erect cock against John’s hip.

John smiled against Sherlock’s neck and sucked a tiny bruise behind Sherlock’s ear. Sherlock groaned and tilted his head to grant John more access. John’s hands set to work on the sheet that Sherlock had wrapped himself up in for the day, parting it so he could brush his thumbs over Sherlock’s nipples. He arched into his touch and John’s lips slicked down his neck and to one of those tight, sensitive nubs. Sherlock’s fingers gripped John’s hair of their own accord, carding through his silky strands and pressing John’s head more firmly to his chest. John hummed around that soft, sensitive bit of flesh before nibbling at it and sucking it into his mouth. Sherlock groaned and pressed his now more than half hard erection to John’s hip.

John flicked his nipple a few more times with his tongue before sliding down Sherlock’s chest, parting the sheet and pressing kisses as he went. Eventually he slid low enough that he could suckle lightly, teasingly on the tip of Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock whimpered and mentally begged John to sink his mouth further onto his cock. “Please,” he murmured, desperation flooding the word.

John groaned, he could never resist when Sherlock said please, and sucked down further on Sherlock’s cock, sucking and drawing his mouth up and down a few times before popping off of Sherlock’s cock. He parted the sheet the rest of the way, leaving Sherlock lying naked underneath him, and spread Sherlock’s legs, propping his thighs on his shoulders as his head slipped lower to suckle at Sherlock’s balls.

Sherlock groaned as John’s tongue massaged his sensitive sack, before he drew a testicle into his mouth, sucking and rubbing it with his tongue, then trading it for the second. John’s hands tilted Sherlock’s hips further and his tongue was rubbing circles into his perineum and sliding lower to rub around Sherlock’s hole. Sherlock gasped and his fingers clenched in John’s hair, holding his head in place. John hadn’t ventured back to Sherlock’s hole since the night they’d thought about trying penetrative sex for the first time. John groaned in delight and continued licking that tender bit of flesh, circling it and sucking at his rim.

Sherlock groaned and his body arched into John’s mouth as the tip of his tongue tentatively pressed against his entrance. John breached him with his tongue and Sherlock groaned at the slick, soft organ pressing inside his body with the utmost tenderness, bordering on reverence.

“Oh,” Sherlock whispered, “John, please.”

John continued, pressing his tongue more firmly to Sherlock’s entrance. Sherlock could feel the saliva dripping between his arse cheeks and down his buttocks and the backs of his thighs. His cock laid rock hard against his belly and he couldn’t resist reaching down and grasping his cock in his fist, squeezing it firmly to relieve some of the ache. John groaned, sending delicious vibrations into the core of Sherlock’s being. John pulled back minisculely and murmured, “That’s it, sweetheart, stroke that perfect cock while I rim this perfect, beautiful arsehole.”

Then his tongue was back at Sherlock’s entrance and Sherlock was lost. He gripped his cock and started to stroke himself in time with John’s thrusts of his tongue, reveling in John’s grunts and moans as he continued pressing his tongue into Sherlock’s steadily loosening hole.

“John,” Sherlock groaned, his fist speeding up to match John’s tongue pressing harder and further into Sherlock’s body, his nose mashed against Sherlock’s perineum. “Oh, oh,” he groaned, his hips stuttering and his heart racing a mile a minute in his chest. “Yes, John. Uhhn, don’t stop, I’m going to come. Oh, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” he chanted as his body coiled tighter and tighter until it released and he spilled come all over his belly. He came hard, his cock drenching his skin in ejaculate and John groaned thrusting his tongue as far as he could manage into Sherlock’s body as his hole squeezed around his tongue.

Finally, when Sherlock felt his body quivering and had to take his hand away from his cock, John slipped back too, pressing one last lingering kiss to that bit of flesh. “Fucking hell,” John groaned, “That was hot.”

He sat up on his knees and unzipped his trousers, pulling his own erection out. His cock was hard and red, his foreskin had already fully retracted and Sherlock licked his lips as he watched John’s hand jerk along his cock.

“Slower,” Sherlock rasped out, thinking about what John had said earlier about delayed gratification.

John groaned but his hand did just that, slowing his stroke moving all the way from root to tip.

“Beautiful,” Sherlock murmured. “Nice and slow, spread that bit of precome on the tip. Yes, mmmh, grip the tip; rub just the head get it nice and wet. Does that feel good?”

John nodded, his hand twisting around the head. “Good, get your trousers off and turn around so I can see your bum.”

John groaned but did as he was asked, taking his hand off his cock long enough to stand and get his trousers off. He straddled Sherlock’s hips once again, but faced the other direction, stripping his shirt off as he settled. “Lean forward,” Sherlock said once he was situated.

John did just that, leaning forward and spreading his thighs to give Sherlock a perfect view of that stunning little pucker that seemed to plague his waking and sleeping. Sherlock dug around in the couch until he found what he was looking for. He popped the cap on the bottle of lube and John groaned.

“Keep stroking your cock,” Sherlock said, “Nice and slow, roll your hips a bit.” John did just as Sherlock asked, pressing his cock through his fist and drawing back out again. Sherlock reached toward him pressing his finger gingerly to John’s hole as John rocked back toward him.

John gasped and his hips stuttered in their movement. “Yes,” he groaned, “Fuck Sherlock.”

Encouraged as he always was by John’s reactions, Sherlock pressed his finger slowly into John’s hole. He teased the rim for a moment before he pressed in fully. John panted and groaned, thrusting forward through his fist and then back on Sherlock’s finger.

“Please, Sherlock,” John groaned, “Another.”

Sherlock obliged him, even though if it were up to him he would have stretched John further before putting another in. John’s hole clenched around the second finger and John cried out and Sherlock knew he was coming. He continued thrusting his fingers in and out of John’s hole, milking out his orgasm until John collapsed forward onto Sherlock’s legs with a groan.

It was only a minute or so before John was moving, tugging the sheet Sherlock had been wearing out from under him to wipe up their come before tossing it on the floor and moving to lie on top of Sherlock, the right side up this time. He snuggled down on Sherlock’s chest under his chin and Sherlock couldn’t help the wave of fondness.

“I intended to just tease you,” John murmured against Sherlock’s chest as Sherlock stroked his finger up and down John’s back along his spine. “I just wanted to lure you into going dancing,” he grumbled.

Sherlock hummed and pressed a kiss to the top of John’s head.

“But fuck, Sherlock. The noises you make and the way your body moves, I can’t help myself once we get going.”

Sherlock grinnned in spite of himself, “You really dote on me far more than necessary.”

“Hardly,” John said with a snort, he pressed a kiss the center of Sherlock’s chest and Sherlock heard the three words John didn’t say loud and clear.

“Well, if we must go dancing, I suppose I could manage to put some clothes on.”

“Really?” John asked, sitting up to look at Sherlock, his eyes lighting up with delight.

Sherlock couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, was it really that hard to convince him to do things? “Stop it,” he complained. “You’re making me feel like a terrible boyfriend.”

John grinned down at him, “Boyfriend, huh?”

Sherlock felt himself blush. The two of them hadn’t talked about labeling what they were to one another but Sherlock had thought about it. “Well we don’t have to be,” he stammered, “If you don’t like it or like the name, it doesn’t matter. You’re right, the name is juvenile and stupid. We don’t have to label it if you don’t like it.” He would have undoubtedly left the room at this point if John hadn’t been lying on top of him.

He stretched up and pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s lips. “I like it,” he murmured. “I like you.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes but couldn’t help feel a bit pleased. He wrapped his arms around John’s neck and kissed him. John’s body sank into his and they stayed wrapped up in one another, kissing leisurely without any expectation of more and Sherlock found himself ridiculously content. As much as he thoroughly enjoyed sex with John, he found that he liked moments like this just as much.

Eventually Sherlock drew back so his head was resting on the sofa once more and he stared up at John.

“What have you done to me?” John murmured, stroking Sherlock’s curls back off his forehead.

“What have _I_ done?” Sherlock asked.

John nodded and pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s lips, “You changed my entire life’s plans. I’d still planned on going into the military when my mom died before I met you, I used to work 70 hours a week. I used to always be working and doing things and now all I want is to lay here on the sofa and kiss you.”

Sherlock grinned up at him, “No, now you’ve trade 70 hour work weeks at the hospital for 50 hour work weeks at the hospital and 20 hour work weeks chasing around criminals.”

“Well, mostly chasing you,” John said with a wink.

Sherlock laughed, “Alright get up. If we’re going out I’ll need a shower.”

“Mmmh,” John hummed, pressing his lips to Sherlock’s neck. “Do you want some company?”

“You’re insatiable,” Sherlock said with a laugh.

“Is that a no?” John asked, looking up at Sherlock with an eyebrow raised.

“Hardly,” Sherlock replied with a grin before squirming out from under John and heading toward the loo. He intentionally swung his hips as he walked to accent his arse, John loved his arse.

Sure enough it was only a matter of seconds before John was behind him, cupping the globes of his bottom in his palms and kissing the back of Sherlock’s neck as they stumbled into the shower.

\-------------------------------

It wasn't too long before they had showered and gotten dressed, it had taken a bit of work to keep their hands off of one another. John had gone back to the bathroom to have quick shave and Sherlock had put on a pair of tight jeans that made his arse look fantastic and a black v neck t shirt that put plenty of creamy flesh on display. When John came back into the room he growled low in his throat and moved to pin Sherlock against the wall, his lips moving to suck a bruise on Sherlock’s neck while his hands groped Sherlock’s arse through the trousers.

Sherlock gasped and his head thunked against the wall behind him as he tilted his head back to allow John more space. “I thought you wanted to go dancing,” Sherlock said through a groan.

“I do, but you look so delectable like this. You’re always wearing suits now,” John said as he pulled back and his eyes raked over Sherlock’s body once more. “Which I love, you look so powerful and sexy in them and I love that look, I really do. But I love it when you wear jeans. I love what jeans do to your arse and I love t shirts on you, I love how they cling to you and how I can see your nipples through the fabric. It just feels like suits are armor and jeans and a t shirt are just clothes. Does that make sense?”

Sherlock laughed, “Not really, but I’ll take your word for it.”

John shook his head and leaned forward to capture Sherlock’s lips in a kiss once more.

Sherlock sighed into the contact and ran his fingers through John’s hair.

John pulled back a moment later and grinned at him, “Alright, let’s go.” He took Sherlock’s hand and pulled him up off where he was leaning against the wall.

They went to a club not too far from their flat, one that he’d apparently frequented in Uni and Sherlock found himself wondering how much time John Watson had spent in clubs when he could have been studying. The music was loud, the sort of loud that reverberated through the marrows of your bones and rattled your rib cage. It was mostly dark and there were people positively everywhere. John turned and grinned at Sherlock, clasping his hand in his and leading the both of them over to an empty space near the wall.

“What are you having?” John asked, leaning in closer so Sherlock would hear him.

Sherlock caught a whiff of John’s cologne and his toes curled in his shoes and the pit of his belly felt warm and heavy as he swayed unconsciously toward John. He hummed, “Whatever you’re having,” he said with a shrug.

John grinned at him and leaned in to press a lingering kiss to Sherlock’s lips, the sort of filthy kiss that left Sherlock longing for more and was really a bit inappropriate for public. John pulled back and Sherlock almost whined but caught himself in time. John smiled at him and headed toward the bar, Sherlock turned and looked around the club, forcing himself to stop looking at John’s arse in his jeans.

John was back a few minutes later, his arms wrapping around Sherlock’s body and his chest pressing to Sherlock’s back. He slicked his lips along Sherlock's neck and offered him one of the four shots he was carrying, and Sherlock suspected they were the same shots they’d done the night they went to Clara’s bar.

He took the two shots and turned so he was looking at John. He swallowed one before leaning in to talk into John’s ear so he could hear him. “So the question is did you have to pay for these?”

John laughed, “I do have to pay for drinks sometimes, you know.”

“I’ve yet to see it happen,” Sherlock replied with a grin. “And based on your evasion of my question I’m going to guess the answer is no.” Sherlock took the other shot and raised an eyebrow, “Are you really letting men buy you drinks when you’re out with someone else?”

John laughed, “No, you prat. The bartender is an old rugby mate from Uni. First round was on him with the promise that we’d go for pints some nights with the old crowd.”

“I think I would have rathered pay for the drinks,” Sherlock said, thinking there was no way in hell that he would have wanted to go get drinks with his classmates from University.

“My rugby mates are a lot of fun,” John said. “We had a lot of good times back in Uni, got into all sorts of mischief. The team was very loyal and dedicated.”

“I’m sure,” Sherlock said with a roll of his eyes. “You tend to inspire that sort of behavior, I’m sure as a captain that would have been especially true.”

John rolled his eyes, “I never said I was the captain.”

“But you were, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” John responded with a sigh. “At any rate, it’ll be good to catch up with them, you could come, too. The blokes would love to meet you, they won’t be able to understand how I’ve pulled someone so perfect.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the way his lips tipped up in a grin at the corners.

John leaned in and kissed him, obviously quite pleased with himself. When he pulled back, John quickly downed his two shots and Sherlock did the same with his second one. John took the glasses from Sherlock’s hand and set them on an empty table nearby before taking Sherlock by the hand and leading him onto the dance floor.

Sherlock felt a low simmering heat in the pit of his belly as he followed John, watching the sway of John’s hips and the confident way he moved onto the dance floor. John paused and drew Sherlock’s arm around his waist so they were pressed flush to one another and ground his arse against Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock gasped and his cock twitched, this wasn’t really what he'd been anticipating when John asked him out dancing.

He’d naively imagined they’d be doing a bit of dirty ballroom and Latin dancing. This wasn’t at all what happened, instead it seemed that John was intent on practically having sex on the dance floor.

Sherlock groaned and buried his face in the crook between John’s neck and shoulder, his arms wrapped more tightly around John’s abdomen and John leaned against him. John reached up and stretched his arms over his head so he could run his fingers through Sherlock’s hair.

John started swaying his hips and rocking to the steady beat pulsing through the club. His hips moved in a figure eight pattern consistent with several Latin dances, which Sherlock didn’t fail to notice.

After a few minutes of continuing on like this, John turned in Sherlock’s arms making Sherlock groan at the loss. John looked up at him with a crooked grin and leaned in to speak directly into Sherlock’s ear, “Are you going to dance with me, or were you planning on just standing there so I could rub against your cock all night? Either way is fine with me, mind you,” he said with a smirk.

“You caught me off guard,” Sherlock replied. “I didn’t expect you to be having clothed sex with me in public.”

John grinned at him, his hands coming down to grip Sherlock’s hips so he could grind his own semi hard erection against Sherlock’s. “It’s the point of a club, my love.”

Sherlock shook his head in exasperation and spun John in his arms once more to pull his hips back so his arse was resting against Sherlock’s hips again. Then Sherlock began rotating his hips in tandem with the music, dragging his cock against the plush flesh of John’s backside. John groaned, his head dropping back to Sherlock’s shoulder as he matched Sherlock’s movements.

The two of them stayed glued together, completely oblivious to the rest of the club. Sherlock found his hands roaming across John’s body without conscious thought, sliding up his abdomen so he could rub his thumbs over the erect nubs of John’s nipples and back down again to caress his hipbones through his trousers. He even found his hands slipping under the hem of John’s shirt to rub along his stomach several times.

He wasn’t sure exactly when it had become so very second nature to him to touch John like this without any thought but John didn’t seem to mind, quite the opposite in fact. More often than not when Sherlock’s hands slipped under the hem of John’s shirt John would reach up and hold Sherlock’s hands in place while he ground back against his cock even more firmly.

It was beautiful torture, and Sherlock found a fire raging through his veins. The desire was like a thirst that he couldn’t seem to satisfy. Eventually John turned in Sherlock’s arms once more and brushed their pelvises together and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck. John leaned in and pressed their lips together and Sherlock groaned into the kiss and wrapped his arms more firmly around John. The two of them stayed locked together in a tangle of limbs and lips for some indeterminable amount of time.

Sherlock lost himself completely in the sway of the music and the brush of John’s body against his own. He couldn’t have thought about anything else if he’d wanted to, and he certainly didn’t want to. When John drew back he smiled up at Sherlock, his hair was drenched in sweat and his cheeks were rosy from how warm he’d gotten but Sherlock couldn’t help but think how ravishing John looked like this. He looked so vibrant, so full of life and Sherlock positively adored him like this.

“Do you want another drink?” John shouted over the noise of the club.

Sherlock shook his head and his hands slipped down to John’s arse as he drew him still closer.

“Do you want to go home?” John asked with a grin.

Sherlock bit his lip and nodded.


	6. Chapter 6

_John_

John could all but feel his pulse thrumming in his neck, he was so turned on and excited. His body was burning up with anticipation and he hoped that tonight was the night. They’d come so far and John truly imagined that he might have managed to convince Sherlock that anal sex didn’t have to be painful, that he found anal sex extremely gratifying and very pleasant.

He wanted so badly to share this with Sherlock, to show Sherlock what having a satisfying and loving relationship looked like. And he knew Sherlock wanted it. It was enough to give him a hard on just thinking about it.

They caught a cab home and Sherlock continued running the tips of his fingers over John’s thigh, letting them drift higher and higher. The tips of his toes tingled and he felt a bit light headed with arousal. He glanced over at Sherlock, who was staring out the window, and he realized his gestures were absentminded fiddling rather than an intentional movement to turn John on. 

“Alright?” John murmured, catching Sherlock’s hand with his own and giving it a light squeeze.

Sherlock nodded but didn't look at him.

“What is it?” John asked, stroking his thumb along the back of Sherlock’s hand.

“I want this,” Sherlock whispered, looking down at his lap.

“I don't understand how that's a problem,” he replied, “I want this, too.”

“But what if I freak out again?” Sherlock blurted. “What if I panic and lose it? What if I don't like it? What if I hurt you?”

“There are a million things that could happen,” John soothed. “A million ways either of us could feel. If we don’t like it we'll just stop. It’s no big deal.”

“It feels like a big deal,” Sherlock said, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

John mentally cursed his blundering mouth, “I didn't mean it like that,” he said softly as he traced his thumb over the delicate bones Sherlock's hand. “I just meant this isn't the end-all-be-all of our relationship. If it doesn't work and we hate it we just won't do it.”

“What if I like it and you don't and I ruin everything because it's all I can think about and I get fixated on it?" Sherlock asked, his words flying out of his mouth at the speed of light.

“Sherlock,” John murmured softly, wondering at how difficult it must be to be inside the other man’s mind, to be able to see so many possibilities all at once. The world must seem like a scary place. “If I don't like it neither will you.”

“How do you know?” Sherlock asked softly.

He seemed so young sometimes that it made John's chest ache. “Because you know what it's like to be on the other side.” John threaded their fingers together and brought Sherlock’s knuckles to his lips. “And I like to think that you're at least a little fond of me.”

At that Sherlock gave him a small grin, “You’re alright,” he said nudging him with his shoulder.

“But seriously, we don't have to do this if you don't want to,” John said.

"I do want this." Sherlock looked over at him then, "Tell me again that you do, too,” he requested.

“I want this,” John murmured and he wondered if Sherlock could hear the way he craved it in his voice. Then he grinned, the type of grin his mother always said meant he was up to some sort of mischief and Sherlock cocked his head at him, a smile playing at the corner of his lips in response. John glanced up at the cabbie who didn't seem to be paying them one bit of attention before he slid across the bench to sit closer to Sherlock and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I want you so badly,” he toyed with Sherlock's earlobe with his tongue. “I want you to open me up, spread me wider and wider until I'm begging. Then I want you to put your cock in me,” John murmured, sliding his hand up and down Sherlock's thigh and reveling in the way Sherlock shuddered against him. “I want you to fuck me long and hard, slow and deep. I want you to tease me until I’m begging you to fuck me harder. I want to come with you buried deep inside of me.”

What John didn't say was that when it was over he wanted Sherlock to kiss his shoulders before going to grab a flannel and cleaning him up. What he didn't say was that he wanted him to stroke his hair back off his face and press soft kisses to his lips and cheeks and whisper the words that John physically ached to hear, _I love you_. But some fantasies were better left unsaid, better left unfulfilled than said aloud to poison everything.

He turned his attention back to the man sitting beside him. He traced his fingers up and down Sherlock's thigh working them higher and higher, thoroughly enjoying the way Sherlock's legs spread unconsciously to make more room for John’s fingers. He loved the way Sherlock's breath came quicker and his fingers bunched in the fabric at the bottom of John's shirt. “I adore you,” John murmured because it was true, and he watched in delight as goosebumps broke out across Sherlock's skin.

“John,” Sherlock started breathily and John's heart thudded wildly and hopefully in his chest, his breath caught and he listened with the utmost care, “I-”

“We’re here,” the driver interrupted and John almost cursed at the man. The fog that had surrounded Sherlock lifted and he cleared his throat as he reached for his wallet.

“I've got it,” John told him, nudging Sherlock toward the door while he reached for his own wallet and handed the cabbie his fare.

Sherlock had taken John's hand once they were out of the car and was steadily tugging him toward their room. He couldn't help but feel the thrill of anticipation race up his spine as he followed his counterpart. When they got inside of the room Sherlock spun and pressed John against the wall, cupping his face and caging him with his body.

John groaned and arched into Sherlock's touch; revelling in being surrounded by the scent and the feel of Sherlock.

“I want you,” he growled against John's lips, his hands sliding down to cup John's arse and his erection pressing against John's hip.

He shuddered at the words he'd hardly dared hope would come. “Yes,” John breathed. “Please Sherlock,” he whispered. “Anything you want, everything I am, I’m yours.”

Sherlock hands squeezed John’s arse once more before they were moving to the hem of John’s t shirt, tugging it up and off over his head. John moaned and Sherlock bent down to suckle at one of John’s nipples. John tangled his fingers through Sherlock’s curls as he arched his back into Sherlock’s touch.

Sherlock groaned and dropped to his knees in front of John. He slid the zip on John’s trousers down and then popped the button out of its hole. John’s jeans slipped down his hips and Sherlock aided in pushing them to the floor before he leaned in and sucked the head John’s cock through John’s pants.

John cried out, one of his hands stayed tangled in Sherlock’s curls but the other scrabbled against the door to aid his balance and support his weight better.

“Turn around,” Sherlock said.

John was only to happy to oblige, turning and presenting his pants covered arse to Sherlock. He’d picked a pair of skin tight black briefs that made his arse look stunning just in case this was what happened. Sherlock made a noise somewhere between a groan and a whimper and his hands cupped John’s buttocks, massaging them firmly in this ridiculously large palms.

John’s fingers curled against the wall and he leaned his head forward as another wave of arousal washed through him, so acute that it was almost painful. This was exquisite. “Please,” John whimpered, physically needing Sherlock to touch him.

Sherlock dragged his pants down his thighs and John all but sobbed in relief, “Yes, Sherlock,” he moaned. “Please, yes.”

“Look at you,” Sherlock murmured, his hands stroking along John’s now naked buttocks for a moment before he pulled John’s pants the rest of the way down his legs and helped him step out of them. “You’re stunning.

John groaned and Sherlock’s hands were back on his arse again, prying apart his buttocks and John’s breath caught in his throat. “Please,” he whispered, and he knew he was begging, he knew he should feel embarrassed by how desperate he was, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I’ve got you,” Sherlock murmured.

John groaned and nodded against the wall, his heart thudding hard. Then Sherlock’s dry fingers were brushing against John’s hole and all his body wanted to do was thrust back and impale himself on those digits. They disappeared a moment later and John thought perhaps he was finally getting the lube.

That was not at all what Sherlock was doing. Rather, he pried John’s buttocks apart and John felt the very tentative touch of Sherlock’s tongue. Sherlock had done all sorts of things to and with John’s anus but this was not one of them. John’s entire body shuddered and he cried out.

Sherlock seemed encouraged by the noise John made and John felt his tongue tentatively flutter against him again before it began stroking along John’s flesh, dragging over the areas surrounding John’s hole. “Yes,” John whimpered, “Fuck that feels fantastic.”

Sherlock continued his gentle touches, stroking John’s flesh in a way that felt almost reverent. “You’re amazing,” John groaned and Sherlock’s tongue pressed softly against the apex of John’s hole, just the very tip slipping inside and John gasped.

"Sherlock," John whimpered, he was at a loss for words, he was so touched and humbled by the way Sherlock was touching him, like he was something precious.

Sherlock continued to lick and suck at the rim and John continued to squirm under his ministrations until his legs felt weak and his knees were shaking.

Then finally Sherlock drew back, "Bed," he rumbled at John, his voice dark and rich and John could all but hear the lust in it.

He nodded and turned around, “I’d like nothing better," John murmured, grasping the other man's hands in his, intending to draw him to his feet but Sherlock didn’t move, he just held John’s hands in his and remained kneeling at his feet, staring up at him for a long moment. John felt his heart crowd into his throat as it pounded; the way Sherlock was looking at him, it seemed like he might say it.

The words didn’t come, however, after a moment Sherlock blinked and leaned forward to press kisses to John’s knuckles. And his tenderness should have been enough, his devotion and the way he touched John should have meant the same thing as those three tiny words. It should have meant more because words were only words and actions were the true measure of a man, John knew from experience the words could mean nothing. But it didn’t change the way he physically ached to hear Sherlock say he loved him.

Sherlock turned John’s hands in his and pressed kisses to both of his palms before looking up at him once more, “Come to bed,” he murmured again.

John nodded and tugged at Sherlock’s hands, drawing him to his feet. When Sherlock had stood, John flipped their positions. He pinned the other man against the wall and pressed up on his toes and kissed Sherlock, long and deep, hoping that he could convey his devotion the way Sherlock did.

While they kissed John reached for the hem of Sherlock’s t shirt and stripped it up his torso, pulling back from the kiss so he could tug it over Sherlock’s head. Their mouths were back on one another’s in a moment and John’s hands busied themselves by sliding down Sherlock’s torso and undoing the button and the zip. He slid Sherlock's jeans and pants down and pressed the length of his body against Sherlock's. Sherlock whined against his mouth and his body pressed into John, his arms clung to him as if John were his only lifeline.

Finally, John drew back. He brushed his nose against Sherlock's before taking his hand and drawing him toward their room, leaving their clothes strewn across the floor. John kissed him again along the way, trying to soothe Sherlock's nerves with his kisses and touch.

They stood at the edge of the bed for a long moment, wrapped in their kiss before Sherlock pulled back, his breathing heavy, “How do you want to do this?”

John shrugged, “Whatever makes you feel the most comfortable,” he said. He stroked his fingers along Sherlock’s face, “All I want is you, any way that you will have me.”

“There is no shortage of ways that I can conceive of wanting you,” Sherlock replied.

John smiled at him, “Then pick one tonight, maybe two if you're feeling ambitious, then pick another tomorrow morning, then another tomorrow night, and so on until we’ve used them all.” John leaned forward and kissed him, soft and sweet, “Then we’ll start from the beginning again.”

Sherlock laughed, “You’re completely mad, you realize?”

“Mad about you, that’s for sure,” John said with an exaggerated wink.

Sherlock groaned, “Get in bed, stop forcing me to endure your cheesy pick up lines. There’s no need to pick me up, I’m already here. In spite of them.”

“My pick up lines work quite well, I’ll have you know,” John said as Sherlock turned his body and ushered him onto the bed on his knees. Hands and knees, John could definitely work with that.

“I doubt it,” Sherlock replied. “I think you are naturally charming and sweet, you have this sort of boyish charm and people will suffer through the pick up lines for the sex.”

“Well it’s a good job I have you then, imagine what will happen when I haven’t got my looks and boyish charm,” John said. “I’d never have a shag again.”

“What makes you think I’ll still be here when you’ve lost your looks and boyish charm?” Sherlock snarked, his hands rubbing along John’s back.

John froze, his muscles tensing and gut clenching at the thought of Sherlock leaving.

“I didn’t mean it,” Sherlock assured softly; his fingers gentling, stroking along John’s sides and hips as his lips settled on John’s neck, his torso pressing along John’s back. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It was never your looks or how charming you are that made me want to be with you, anyway. You know that, don’t you?”

John looked over his shoulder at the other man, squirming a bit so he could see his eyes, “What was?”

Sherlock stared back at him, “You see me,” he said. “It’s selfish, I suppose but you let me be me, you don’t condemn or judge me, you like me and you make me...” he paused, searching for something, “You make me a better me. Does that make sense?”

John nodded, feeling a bit choked up at Sherlock’s words. He twisted himself so he could awkwardly press a kiss to Sherlock’s lips, “Me too,” he whispered.

Sherlock drew back a moment later, “Right, are you ready?”

John groaned and nodded, turning to face the headboard once again, “More than ready.”

Then Sherlock’s hands were on his buttocks again and all traces of their conversation fled John’s mind at the contact. “Can you reach the lube?” Sherlock asked.

John groaned and reached into the nightstand drawer, digging around and feeling irritated by all of the random crap they kept in there. What kind of people left a butcher’s knife and light bulbs in their nightstand drawer? John started dropping things out of the drawer onto the floor as he dug around.

“What the hell?” Sherlock grumbled.

“I can’t find it because someone has found fit to leave all manner of things in the nightstand in case of some strange emergency,” John said, finally finding the tube and tossing it at Sherlock.

Sherlock caught it and replied, “Well you insist on keeping lotion and tissues in there,” as though that somehow cinched the argument.

John laughed, “Right, I’ll get rid of the lotion if you get rid of the wrench.”

“I might need that,” Sherlock said.

John sighed and interrupted, “Right, I know. You never know when it might come in handy and it’s fine. Please, please fuck me.”

Sherlock kissed his spine and John thought that might have been as close to an apology as he was ever likely to get. Then Sherlock’s slick fingers were pressing at John’s hole, carefully rubbing lube around the sensitive flesh. John groaned and his cock throbbed, he couldn’t believe this was finally happening. “Sherlock, please, I need you inside of me,” John begged.

And it was as miraculously easy as that. Sherlock pressed his index finger carefully into John’s hole, wiggling it a bit to stretch the muscles and John consciously relaxed his muscles, wanting to seem nothing less than perfectly receptive and inviting.

“You feel amazing,” Sherlock murmured, awe colouring his voice as though it were the first time.

“It feels better to have you inside of me, I guarantee it,” John said through a groan as Sherlock drew his finger out and pressed it in again. He kept it up, slowly but surely pressing in and drawing out, circling his finger to stretch John’s rim. “More,” John begged, “Please Sherlock, I need more. I need you.”

“How am I meant to resist your begging?” Sherlock asked as he carefully pressed in a second finger.

John groaned, “You’re not.” Sherlock snorted but his fingers didn’t stop their inward press. He thrust his fingers in and out a few times and continued circling around the rim, John groaned, he didn’t know how he was going to make it if he kept up this pace. “Scissor your fingers,” John said.

He felt Sherlock exhale heavily against his back and John had to remind himself not to push too hard. He’d opened his mouth to apologize and assure Sherlock that he could take his time when Sherlock’s fingers spread inside of his hole. John let out a noise that sounded vaguely like a moose but he couldn’t be arsed to care. “Oh, yes,” he cried, trying not to thrust back on Sherlock’s fingers. “Yes, Sherlock, please. Stretch me, open me so wide. Then fill me,” John begged.

“Your mouth,” Sherlock murmured as his fingers continued to thrust and twist, occasionally scissoring.

“I’m sorry,” John groaned. “I just want you so badly.”

“Don’t apologize,” Sherlock said then he pressed in a third finger and John was so unprepared that he almost came.

“Wait,” John gasped, as Sherlock started to thrust. Sherlock froze completely and John cursed himself. “Fuck,” he gasped.

“What do you need?” Sherlock asked concern leaking from his voice.

“Just hold still,” John said through gritted teeth. He inhaled through his nose and counted to ten, “Sorry, it felt too good. I almost lost it. Sorry.”

“I didn’t hurt you?” Sherlock asked suspiciously.

“No,” John said, “Not even a little. The stretch and the feeling of having more inside of me was just intense and I almost came.”

“I wasn’t touching your prostate,” Sherlock said as he started to thrust his fingers gingerly once more.

“It’s the idea of you, Sherlock. I’m so bloody turned on by the thought of having you inside of me, I can’t describe it.” John felt himself blush, “That sounds completely crazy.”

“No, it’s..” Sherlock trailed off uncertainly, “It’s attractive,” he finished.

John groaned, “Good to know that slutty does it for you.”

Sherlock snorted and the motions of his fingers became easier, probably because John had distracted him. “You aren’t slutty.”

“You’re right,” John replied, “It’s only you I want.”

“What did we say about the cheesy pickup lines?” Sherlock said, brushing his fingers teasingly over John’s prostate.

“You find them secretly endearing, don’t try to lie to me,” John teased.

Sherlock leaned over so he was sprawled across John’s back once more, he nibbled at John’s ear for a moment and John gasped. “You aren't entirely wrong,” Sherlock muttered.

John let out a surprised laugh, “You’re always surprising me.”

“I’m very enigmatic,” Sherlock replied, his fingers finally spreading and starting to scissor inside of John.

“You’re something alright,” John replied but it came off rather less tongue-in-cheek and more admiring than he’d intended it to because of how fantastic his fingers felt. Sherlock twisted them and brushed along John’s prostate. “Please, Sherlock,” John finally begged, giving up all pretense of being able to hold out any longer. “Please, put your cock inside of me.”

“Just a few more minutes,” Sherlock murmured, trailing kisses along the back of John’s neck, his tongue flicking out occasionally. “I just can’t bear the idea of hurting you.”

“You won’t,” John promised. “I’m so stretched, so ready.”

“Just another minute, John. The thought of hurting you,” Sherlock shook his head, his nose brushing against John’s neck.

John exhaled, “Sorry.”

“It's alright, I’m sure I’m just being overly cautious but I can't help it,” Sherlock whispered against John’s shoulders but his fingers had started to thrust a bit harder and John could feel his erection pressing against his buttock.

“I love you for the care you’ve shown me,” John murmured. “I’m just really horny.”

“It’s hot,” Sherlock murmured, nibbling at the John’s earlobe.

John groaned, and tried desperately not to push any harder, fought to have some semblance of patience. And then Sherlock’s fingers were drawing out of his hole and they didn’t thrust back in. “Yes,” John whispered in spite of himself. “Oh, Sherlock, yes. Please, please, please,” he started to chant.

“Shh,” Sherlock hushed him, “You’re sure about this?”

“Yes,” John groaned, how Sherlock had even a sliver of doubt was completely beyond John.

“And you’ll tell me if something hurts?” Sherlock prompted.

“Yes,” John groaned, “I promise. I’ll give you a play by play for how every single move you make feels if that’s what you need to hear.”

Sherlock hummed contemplatively in John’s ear and John heard the distinct sound of Sherlock rubbing lube along his cock. “That does sound tempting.”

“Please, Sherlock,” John begged, feeling like he was going to die of sexual frustration.

But then he felt the head of Sherlock’s cock pressing against his hole, rubbing tentatively. “Yes,” he breathed because it felt like coming home, it felt like something in the very depths of his soul was settling.

“John-” Sherlock started.

And John interrupted him, “I’m sure,” he said firmly. “Sherlock, please, I’ve never felt this sure of anything in my life. I’m sure.”

Sherlock huffed a laugh as his cock slid slowly into John’s body, “I was going to tell you that you felt amazing.”

“Oh,” John murmured but it turned into a groan because Sherlock’s hands had gripped his hips and all manner of thought had evaporated. “Please,” John murmured because he just couldn’t seem to stop. “That feels outstanding.”

It seemed to take an age and John held his breath through the entire thing, allowing Sherlock to take his time, trying not to rush him but finally Sherlock bottomed out, his hips resting against John’s arse. John could have cried with relief, in fact he almost did start tearing up but he refocused himself on Sherlock, “Alright?” he murmured trying to glance over his shoulder but failing to actually see much.

“I’m supposed to be the one asking you that, aren’t I?” Sherlock asked, his voice sounding tense.

“Semantics,” John murmured but he answered the question just the same. “I am so much better than alright, this is perfect, Sherlock. Tell me you’re okay.”

“We’re doing this wrong,” Sherlock murmured. “I should be able to see your face. I can’t tell what you’re thinking and feeling if I can’t.”

“Aren’t you Sherlock Holmes? There are a million ways for you to deduce the state of my arousal besides my face,” John said. “Lean over my back and give me your hand.” Sherlock obeyed, draping himself along John’s back and proffering his hand to John. “First, your ears should tell you I’m fucking turned on because I can’t stop moaning and begging,” he felt Sherlock smile against his shoulder and took it as a good sign. “Second, feel my pulse,” he said, drawing Sherlock’s hand to his neck, “My heart is pounding away because I want you so badly. Your ears should tell you I’m practically panting, but your hands can tell you that too,” John said, drawing Sherlock’s hands down to feel the way his rib cage was expanding with each breath. “Then my nipples,” he said drawing Sherlock’s finger to said body part, “Are hard enough to cut glass."

Sherlock rolled them between his finger pinching at them and making John cry out, his hole clenched around Sherlock's cock at the sensation. "My hole was easy for you to slide into but my muscles keep spasming around you because everything in my groin is tensing," John said, his voice tight as he tried to control himself. "My hips keep trying to impale my body on your cock and _my_ cock," he said dragging Sherlock's hand down to said organ, "Is so hard that I think I'm in physical pain."

The other man groaned and his hand reflexively began stroking John's cock which felt incredible and John lost himself in that sense of relief for a moment before he slapped Sherlock's hand away. "If you keep that up I'm going to come and then we're going to have to wait an hour and start this all over again."

Sherlock groaned and his teeth nibbled at John's neck, "You are exquisite." And then Sherlock's hips drew back and he pressed back forward.

John gasped his entire body thrumming in pleasure, "Fuck, yes. You feel perfect."

"You're everything I've ever dreamt of," Sherlock said as his hips thrust again. "Anything my wildest dreams could have conjured up; there it is in you."

"Sherlock," John cried helplessly, overwhelmed by his words and by his movements inside of his body.

Sherlock's hands traced along John's body, grasping and holding flesh as they moved, leaving no part of him untouched. Then Sherlock was draping his body over John's, he wrapped his arms around John’s torso, holding him in place as his thrusts got a bit harder.

“Yes,” John groaned. “Harder. Fuck, Sherlock.” 

“You’re incredible,” Sherlock told him and John could feel his chest heaving against his back as he set up a quicker pace. “You’re perfect. John,” he whimpered and John shuddered at that tone of voice, at how wrecked he sounded. “I've never felt this way about anyone.”

“It's that good for me too,” John assured him. “You feel amazing,” he praised as Sherlock thrust in again.

“No,” Sherlock said through a groan, his hips stuttering for a moment. “I mean about you in general. You make me feel alive. Like I have a point. And I just want to give you everything,” he whispered.

“This is a phenom-” John started to say before a particularly well placed thrust made him groan and his cock leaked precome on the bed, “It's a phenomenal start,” he assured.

“John, I-” Sherlock started and John’s muscles clenched around him at the thought of what the next word might be. That word didn’t come because Sherlock cried out and his fingers dug into John’s chest. “Fuck,” he groaned. His right arm moved a bit higher so it crossed John’s chest and gripped his shoulder, Sherlock held John in place that way and fucked into his hole, driving in harder and faster than he had been.

“Yes,” John begged, his own body rocking countertime with Sherlock’s.

“Are you close?” Sherlock asked, his body shuddering against John’s and John knew Sherlock was at the end of his control.

“Yes,” John said. Then Sherlock’s hand was on his cock and he hadn’t even stroked him once before John was coming. He vaguely felt Sherlock’s cock twitch and erupt inside of his body and it triggered another spurt of come to shoot from his own cock. Sherlock bit down on the flesh of John’s shoulder and it felt so good John thought he could cry. “Sherlock,” John groaned.

They collapsed into a heap, both of their breathing completely ragged. After a moment Sherlock, who had merely landed on top of John when John’s arms and legs gave out, started to try to draw back.

John grabbed his arms where they were still wrapped around his torso, and held him there, “Not yet,” he whispered.

“You’re incredible,” Sherlock murmured, stroking his nose along the back of John’s neck.

John sighed in contentment, “You are bloody fantastic. I can’t believe how good that was.” Sherlock lips were moving on his neck and his shoulders and John felt him give a hum against his shoulder at the words. He wanted Sherlock to say he’d liked it, wanted him to tell him that it had felt amazing and been perfect.

Sherlock pressed another kiss to his shoulder before murmuring, “Let me go get a flannel, hmm?” into the skin there.

John nodded and Sherlock gingerly pulled out but John winced all the same, it was never pleasant, that part. He rolled slightly, “Kiss?” he asked softly.

Sherlock leaned in without a word and pressed a quick peck to John’s lips that John hardly thought was long enough. “I’ll be right back,” Sherlock murmured, pressing one more peck to John’s lips before fleeing the bedroom.

John rolled over onto his back, trying to get out of the wet spot on the bed. He reached over onto the nightstand and grabbed a few tissues and attempted to dab up the worst of it. He’d have to do laundry tomorrow.

Sherlock was back after a long moment and John watched his graceful movements as he came back to bed. “You moved,” Sherlock grumbled, leaning in over John to wipe the flannel down his stomach and clean up the come smeared all over his groin. He was surprisingly gentle and tender about it and John felt himself flush at the care shown. Sherlock leaned in and pressed a kiss to John’s hip and John stroked his fingers through Sherlock’s sweat damp curls. “Roll over for me,” Sherlock asked.

And so John did, presenting his bottom to Sherlock once more. Sherlock very carefully pried John’s buttocks apart before dabbing gently at the flesh. “Does anything hurt?” he asked and John realized in spite of everything they’d done, in spite of all of the proof he had that John had thoroughly enjoyed this, he was still unsure of himself.

John’s heart ached. He reached back and caught Sherlock’s wrist, drawing it away so he could roll over again. Sherlock drew his hand back out of John’s reach, his head turned away so he was looking at the corner of the room, the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. John knelt up on the bed and positioned his body right in front of where Sherlock was standing.

“Sherlock,” John whispered, “Look at me.”

Sherlock’s eyes closed and John saw tears had formed under his eyelids, as one slid down his cheek.

John brushed it away with his thumb and leaned in to press a kiss to Sherlock’s cheek, before drawing the other man into himself. “You didn’t hurt me,” John said firmly. “Do you hear me?”

Sherlock let out a shuddering breath and nodded, his arms wrapped around John’s back in return and John felt relief course through his veins at the contact.

“That was incredible,” John murmured, turning to kiss Sherlock’s cheek again. “It was outstanding, I’ve never had sex that felt that good.”

“I lost myself toward the end," Sherlock confessed, "I wasn’t thinking about you the way I should have. I wasn’t careful and I could have hurt you.”

“Shh,” John murmured, stroking his fingers through Sherlock’s curls. “You didn’t hurt me, there was no pain, alright?” Sherlock nodded against John’s neck, “You were perfect. Okay?”

Sherlock nodded, “Okay.”

“Good. Now come get in bed and tell me how fantastic a shag I was,” John teased as he drew back so he could kiss Sherlock again before collapsing back into bed.

Sherlock grinned at him and climbed in next to him, “You were a brilliant shag,” he murmured, pressing their bodies together so they were chest to chest and entwining their limbs.

John brushed his nose along Sherlock's, “That was brilliant.”

The other man’s hands drifted so they were rubbing over John’s arse, his fingers tracing featherlight over his skin. John felt goose pimples break out along his skin, “Can I tell you something?” John murmured before his lips pressed against Sherlock’s.

Sherlock nodded, his eyes wide open and staring straight at John, piercing into his soul.

“I love you,” John murmured. “And I know you hate the words but I just can’t seem to help myself sometimes. You are the single most incredible person I have ever known.” Sherlock blinked at him and John grinned before adding, “And you are an amazing shag. 10 out of 10 would shag again.”

Laughter bubbled up out of Sherlock’s throat and John’s heart expanded with love and pride.

“You’re the most ridiculous person I have ever known,” Sherlock said when his giggles subsided.

“But you’d be lost without your blogger,” John murmured. He pressed his lips to Sherlock’s once more, “Go to sleep, my love, then tomorrow we can do this all over again.”


	7. Chapter 7

_Sherlock_

To say everything went back to normal wouldn't be entirely true, this was Baker Street, after all, nothing could ever truly be so mundane as to be deemed "normal". But a certain sort of balance was reached, over the next few months Sherlock and John got truly creative with positions and locations to have sex in. Sherlock was pleased to discover his anxiety surrounding penetrating John was virtually nonexistent at this point. John, as far as Sherlock was concerned, was positively sublime and it was clear (to Sherlock at least) that John was very, very happy. They both were.

And yet.

Sherlock found himself wanting more. The more he had sex with John, the more he came to _know_  that John genuinely enjoyed penetrative sex. The more he watched John enjoy having Sherlock inside of him, the more Sherlock enjoyed being inside of him. And the more Sherlock enjoyed being inside John, the more he wondered about what it might be like to have John inside of him.

Sometimes, when he was inside of John and his hand was stroking John's cock, he'd watch John moan and writhe, watch the powerful way John's body moved against him, and he'd wonder. He'd wonder what it would feel like if the thick, leaking cock in his hand were pressing into his body instead. John's hole would spasm around his cock and he'd wonder what it felt like to have something filling him, completing him. 

He'd started thinking about it to a point that bordered on obsessive. He orgasmed with that thought in mind just this evening. They'd had spectacular sex and Sherlock had watched enraptured as John had come apart around Sherlock's fingers and then his cock. John had been outstanding, he was perfect. And now they lay slotted together, John's back pressed against Sherlock's front. Sherlock could feel John's slow, steady heartbeat against his fingers as he brushed his thumb over John's soft skin.

Sherlock buried his nose in the crook of John's neck and inhaled the scent of him, of them. "John?" 

"Mhmm?" John hummed back at him drowsily.

Warmth flooded the core his being, and Sherlock could help think that he adored John like this; so comfortable with him, with them. "I've been thinking," Sherlock murmured, tracing his fingers over the musculature of John's arm.

"You? Thinking?" John murmured sarcastically without any bite. "I'll never believe it," he mumbled through a yawn. 

Sherlock huffed and John twisted his head to look over his shoulder at Sherlock. Then it was John's turn to sigh as he rolled over and faced Sherlock. He pressed a sweet kiss to Sherlock's lips and the corner of Sherlock's lips twitched up in response.

"Sorry, bee," John murmured, a happy shiver ran up Sherlock's spine. "Tell me."

"I want to try again," Sherlock said with more confidence than he felt.

John grinned crookedly at him, "Well, you're going to need to give me another forty five minutes or so. Maybe a really spectacular blowjob could get me going faster," he said as he stretched and pressed his body closer to Sherlock's, "but I doubt it."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, even though the prospect didn't sound half bad. "That's not what I meant." Sherlock swallowed and glanced down at John's collarbone, dragging his fingers over it. "I want you to try penetrating me again."

John's body stilled entirely, Sherlock hadn't even realized the slow but constant motion; John's hands brushing along his sides or his foot sliding up and down Sherlock's calf until the other man had frozen.

"I-" John murmured, then he swallowed and Sherlock chanced a glance up at John's face. The man looked nervous, brows drawn together, lips pinched tight. "Why?" John finally asked. "Do you not like what we've been doing? Are you bored?"

"No!" Sherlock said quickly, honestly. "No," he assured as he presssed his lips to John's in what he hoped would seem like a reassuring gesture. "No, quite the opposite in fact," he said. "I _thoroughly_ enjoy this, your reactions are stunning and you feel amazing. It's why I want to try it." Sherlock brushed his fingers over John's cheek, "I want to feel what you feel, and I want you to feel what I feel when I'm inside you." Sherlock swallowed, "The care and the trust you show me  _every time_ you let me in, I want to give that to you. I want to make you happy," Sherlock confessed, because it's true.  

"Oh, sweetheart," John whispered, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Sherlock's forehead, "I am so, so happy. You're perfect, I don't need to put my cock in you to know you trust and care about me. You show me everyday."

"I'm not saying this right," Sherlock shook his head to clear it. "I want to try," Sherlock told John earnestly. "I do, John. Please think about it. Maybe we could just start off small, try some things and take a few baby steps in that direction." Sherlock took a deep breath, "And I know it's something you want, and even if you're okay with not having it, I'd still like to give it to you."

"If we do this, it's only because you want it, not because you are thinking about how I'll feel," John insisted, stroking Sherlock's cheek. "You being happy is what makes me happy. I love having you inside of me, Sherlock. We never have to switch and I will never be upset about it. There is no pressure here."

"I know," Sherlock replied. "I don't feel pressured." John raised an eyebrow skeptically at Sherlock. "Really," Sherlock told him, and he meant it.

John hummed thoughtfully and leaned in to press a kiss to Sherlock's lips again. "We'll start small, and see if there's something you might like." John grinned at him and nipped playfully at Sherlock's chin, "I have a few ideas."

\--------------------------------

 It would be a few weeks before anything came of their conversation. They'd been called on a grueling case the next day and their sex life was essentially put on hold. Sherlock got too distracted by cases; in one instance he'd left John in bed in the middle of sex because a thought had occurred to him. To say John had been frustrated and his pride injured would be an understatement.

Nonetheless, the case was over now and in spite of the way Sherlock's limbs ached and the way his brain felt like mush, he was horny as could be. They made it up the stairs to the flat and Sherlock had collapsed onto the couch, John rolling on top of him. They'd started trading kisses as hands slid under clothes to touch feverish skin. John's hands slipped down Sherlock's sides, and down the back of his pants. 

Sherlock groaned and arched up into John, his body shifting up to give John more room to cup his buttocks. "Your arse is the eighth wonder," John groaned, his hands squeezing and massaging in a way that made Sherlock's eyes roll back in his head. 

Sherlock pressed forward and kissed John again, hard and demanding, opening his mouth and silently begging John to plunder it. 

John groaned and licked around Sherlock's mouth for long moments, stroking his tongue and fanning the flame in the pit of Sherlock's belly.

When he pulled back, John was panting, "Sherlock?"

"Yes?" Sherlock asked, admittedly more focused on the way John's hands had wiggled down the back of his trousers and were groping and pulling Sherlock's body closer to him than he was on John's words.

"Remember a couple weeks ago when you told me you'd been thinking about..." John cleared his throat, "switching things up a bit?"

"Yes," Sherlock replied, brushing his fingers through John's hair and making it stand up even more.

John turned his head and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's wrist, "I've been thinking about it a lot and there's something I'd like to try if you're amenable."

Sherlock nodded but bit his lower lip, he did want to try this but he was feeling so mentally and physically drained he wasn't sure it was the best idea tonight.

John swallowed and pressed on, "So, it seems like you've really enjoyed me rimming you, yes?"

Sherlock's cock twitched in his trousers at the memory and he felt the fire under his skin rekindle. "Yes," he breathed, remembering the feeling of John's sinuous tongue delving between his buttocks and pressing inside of him.

"And it wasn't until I put my fingers inside of you that you didn't like it, right?" John prompted, as though he was trying to fact check a witness.

Sherlock nodded again.

"So, I thought, what if it's my fingers you don't like?" John said before rushing on, "Equally, I wonder if you'll hate the way my cock feels, but let's cross that bridge if and when we get there."

"Relax," Sherlock murmured to John, brushing his thumb across John's cheek.

John exhaled, "I want to try penetrating you with a vibrator instead of my fingers while I suck you off."

"A vibrator?" Sherlock asked, surprised that John hadn't thought of something more phallic in nature, a dildo perhaps.

"Yeah it's like-"

"I know what a vibrator is, John," Sherlock interrupted. "I'm just surprised that's what you chose."

"It's thinner," John explained, then he shook his head, "Let's just forget about it, yeah? We don't have to do this now. Or ever. I just thought-"

Sherlock leaned up and kissed him, "Relax," he breathed again. "I think you're fantastic, John Watson. I think what you're proposing is a great idea." He pressed his lips to John's once more, "I'm flattered that you've spent so much time thinking about what will make me comfortable."

"But..." John prompted, looking at Sherlock suspiciously.

"No but," Sherlock said simply, shrugging a single shoulder. "That's all there is, I'm flattered and touched." He sighed, "Sentiment is completely overwhelming my brain. Let's just try it."

"You're sure?" John asked, brushing his nose against Sherlock's.

"Yes," Sherlock replied. 

"Right," John said, pressing a kiss to Sherlock's lips as he moved to stand. "Wait here and I'll go fetch what we need."

"Why don't I just come with you?" Sherlock asked, knowing he wouldn't want to move once he had an orgasm.

"I want to try it out here," John said, avoiding Sherlock's gaze.

"Why?"

"Because you have negative associations with anal sex in our bedroom." John leaned down and brushed his lips against Sherlock's, "I want to give us the best shot we can have at this." He shrugged, "And I think it's going to help us that you've worn down your brain solving that case. I think your mind is going to be one of the biggest obstacles, honestly."

"What?" Sherlock blurted, pulling back from John.

"No, sorry," John said scrubbing his hands over his face. "I'm rambling and I'm saying everything wrong. I'm nervous," he confessed. "I am in perpetual wonder of you and your incredible, amazing mind. I don't mean it in a bad way, I just mean that you have mental blocks about anal sex, which is fine and totally understandable. But I think it will be easier to relax and let go if your brain has already been sated by a good puzzle."

"You've spent a lot of time thinking about this," Sherlock commented, surprised. "If you applied your mind to our cases the way you do to our sex life, we'd solve the cases in half the time."

John leaned down and pecked his lips again, lingering for a moment the second time his lips pressed against Sherlock's. "I don't know other people and things the way I know you. And I have no interest in knowing those things. Besides," he said with a wink, "I have to have something to think about while you and Molly drone on about corpses."

Sherlock snorted at him and shook his head.

John smiled back and cupped Sherlock's cheek, "The last time was fairly traumatic for both of us," he said as he stroked a thumb of Sherlock's cheekbone, making Sherlock's arm hairs stand up on end. "I just really don't want a repeat of that."

Sherlock leaned up and kissed John's cheek, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," John murmured, dipping down to take possession of Sherlock's mouth once more, his hand slid down Sherlock's neck to tweak his nipple through his shirt before drifting over Sherlock's rib cage for a slow moment. "I love you," John breathed, eyes still closed.

Sherlock brushed his nose against John's, in silent response. Somewhere along the way, he'd stopped minding when John said those words, which seemed boarderline miraculous. He'd be lying if he said he didn't know John wanted to hear it back, he'd even wanted to say it a couple of times, but he just couldn't bring himself to. John had never said he minded. But he'd also never said he didn't.

"Right," John said, pressing one quick kiss to Sherlock's lips before pulling back. "Stop distracting me, you beautiful thing, I'm going to fetch the things we need."

While John was gone, Sherlock fiddled nervously with his shirt, debating whether he should get undressed or not and trying to lay himself out for John in the most appealing way possible. He settled for untucking his shirt and unbuttoning a few buttons before John came out.

John growled low in his throat when he re-entered the living room and Sherlock knew he'd made the right decision. Sherlock tilted his head back on the armrest to watch John approaching him, John pulled his shirt over his head and shimmied out of his jeans on the way to the sofa, leaving only his ridiculously tight pants on. Sherlock loved those pants, they hugged every asset John possessed; his thighs looked massively strong, his arse looked firm and lush at the same time, he could see his heavy testicles distinctly, and every inch of his gloriously thick cock was outlined. His mouth all but watered every time John wore those pants.

John's throat emitted a strangled sort of noise, "Stop looking at me like that."

Sherlock dragged his eyes away from John's cock and up to his face. "Like what?"

"Like you want to eat me," John replied as he swung a leg over Sherlock's hips and straddled him. John's fingers went to work on Sherlock's buttons and his mouth started licking and sucking at Sherlock's collarbone. 

Sherlock groaned as John slid his lips down to suckle at Sherlock's nipple. "I do want to eat you," Sherlock said through a whimper as John's teeth nipped at his sensitive flesh. "I want to completely consume you." John tongued over his nipple and Sherlock felt sparks ignite in his groin. "Ohh," he whimpered as his hips twitched up against John involuntarily.

John hummed and moved to nibble at Sherlock's other nipple, Sherlock let out a soft, whimpering sigh and his fingers threaded through John's hair. John sucked lightly, teasing his nipples into stiff peaks. When Sherlock was squirming and whining, John drew back as he finished the buttons of Sherlock's shirt and blew lightly across his aching nipples.

"Fuck," Sherlock whimpered.

With a grin, John sat up and brushed his hands over Sherlock's ribs, rubbing his damp nipples with his thumbs on the way, before grasping Sherlock's hips in his palms. He stroked over the ridge of Sherlock's hipbones with his thumbs and hummed at him. "I should feed you more."

Sherlock snorted, "Do you have a thing for fat men?"

John shook his head and slid lower on Sherlock's body, straddling his thighs so he could toy with Sherlock's zip. "I have a thing for taking care of you," he murmured, looking up at Sherlock under his eyelashes. "Cases are terrible for your eating habits."

"Slows me-"

"Down," John finished. "Yes, I know." John leaned forward and trailed kisses down Sherlock's torso, starting at his supernastral notch and stopping at his belly button. He paused there and teasingly flicked his tongue inside, swirling around for a moment.

"John," Sherlock begged, fingers slotting into his hair once more.

With one last lick, John sat up again and slid the zip down on Sherlock's trousers. Sherlock moaned as John's hand slipped inside to rub Sherlock's cock through his pants. 

"John, please," Sherlock breathed. "I need you to touch me."

He nodded and helped Sherlock to squirm out of his trousers and pants until he was laid bare before him. John stroked his fingers over Sherlock's skin reverently, "You're stunning," he breathed. His fingers traced Sherlock's hips and stomach, circling his nipples before brushing down his arms, leaving trails of heat and light in his wake. "Just look at you," John murmured. "I've never seen a body as beautiful as yours."

Before Sherlock could say anything back, John was standing and looking down at Sherlock calculatingly. Sherlock felt himself flush under the scrutiny. He turned his face to hide it partially in the pillow under his head. 

"Spread your legs for me," John requested, his voice low and silky. It sent a shudder up Sherlock's spine and he spread his thighs minutely. John looked up at his face, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Are you feeling shy, my love?" John murmured. "My sweet bee."

Then John was at the end of the sofa, kneeling on the floor at Sherlock's feet, lifting his right foot to trace kisses along his arch. Naturally, Sherlock's foot tilted toward John, giving him more surface to kiss. John slipped under that leg and climbed onto the sofa, lifting Sherlock's left leg onto the back of the sofa and pressing kisses to that foot next. As John moved further up Sherlock's ankle, Sherlock spread his legs apart to give John enough room. John kissed all along Sherlock's ankle, then his calf, then his thigh, all the way up to the crease where his thigh met his groin. Sherlock's breath caught, _please, please please,_  as John's breath ghosted over his hard cock.

But then John was sitting up once more and he started the same process with Sherlock's other leg. Sherlock let his foot slip off the sofa and land on the floor, fully spreading himself open to John. John hummed approvingly at that, and traced his way up Sherlock's leg once more. 

Looking up at Sherlock with a devilish glint in his eye, John breathed hotly over the juncture between the root of Sherlock's erection and his testicles. 

Sherlock cried out and his cock twitched, leaking precome onto his stomach. He couldn't resist threading his fingers through John's hair, letting his fingers clench and unclench in the silky strands. "Please!"

John's mouth descended on Sherlock's aching cock without hesitation. He pressed his lips chastely to the head of Sherlock's cock, his tongue flicking out to collect a drop of precome. John hummed in apparent delight and traced kisses down the length of Sherlock's cock before he reached his testicles. 

His tongue lapped at his balls, stroking and teasing before John finally opened his mouth and began sucking at Sherlock's sack. Sherlock groaned and his hands abandoned John's hair in favor of reaching up to clasp he headrest. "Yes," he whimpered. "John, please."

John hummed at him before taking Sherlock's cock in hand and moving to suckle teasingly at the head. He teased at his cock for long moments, flicking his tongue over the tip and placing soft kisses that left Sherlock gasping. It wasn't until John wriggled his tongue in under Sherlock's foreskin, though, that Sherlock really began to lose it.

"Uhh, John!" Sherlock cried desperately, "Please!"

John moved his hand and sunk down on Sherlock's cock, rolling his tongue along the underside of Sherlock's shaft. He drew back and sank down again, taking Sherlock into the back of his throat. Sherlock's hips bucked helplessly, seeking more.

Then John was pulling off once more, moving to kiss and lick at his testicles again; Sherlock's bits were all drenched in John's saliva and the cool air made him shudder. "Yes," he gasped. "John, don't stop. Yes," he begged.

"Yes what?" John murmured against his skin before letting his tongue out to place teasing kitten licks on Sherlock's balls. Sherlock's entire body felt hot at the thought of saying the words. "Tell me what you want," John cajoled, his lips pressed lightly against Sherlock's testicles, making vibrations that felt deliciously good against his sensitive skin as he spoke. "Tell me Sherlock," John prompted, "And I'll give you anything."

Sherlock whimpered, "Suck my-" he started before cutting himself off, swallowing the word, his cheeks flushing scarlet. 

"Suck your what, darling?" John murmured. "Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me what you want."

"Suck my testicles," Sherlock blurted, covering his face with the crook of his arm.

His embarrassment didn't last for long because John groaned at his words and his mouth immediately opened against Sherlock's testicles, sucking and rolling his tongue around one and then the other, moaning around the flesh and making Sherlock's back arch up off the couch. He continued like this, sucking and licking at Sherlock until he was squirming, his hips thrusting abortively, saliva trailing down the crack of his arse. 

"John," he gasped, pressing his hips up in hopes of getting John to take the hint and move lower. 

John didn't take the hint, he drew back slightly and looked up, his cheeks flushed pink and eyes bright with delight, "Yes?" he asked innocently, as he placed sucking kisses to the base of Sherlock's cock.

"Please," Sherlock begged.

"Tell me," John murmured and Sherlock wondered if John was going to make him dictate every move he made. The thought made his skin flush but his cock twitched.

"Lower," Sherlock murmured, his ears felt like they were burning.

"Lower where?" John asked, his lips slipping over to the side to trail down the crease between Sherlock's thigh and groin once more.

"You know where," Sherlock replied.

"Tell me," John said, his eyes locking with Sherlock's as he brushing his lips feather light, back and forth against his balls.

"My anus," Sherlock gasped. "Please, John, lick my hole."

John groaned and his hands were under Sherlock's thighs in an instant, scooping him up and tilting Sherlock to give himself better access to his hole. Sherlock cried out as John's tongue brushed over that flesh; soft, wet, and perfect.

John groaned and pressed his face in closer, making broad, flat swipes over his hole. Then he pulled back, "You're incredible. And I know just how flexible you are." He gave Sherlock one of the lopsided grins that nearly stopped his heart, "Grab the backs of your knees for me," John requested.

Sherlock whimpered and clamped his lower lip between his teeth, flushing as he did what John asked and bared himself to John's gaze.

"That's beautiful," John groaned, staring at his hole for a split second before diving in, spreading Sherlock's buttocks wide with his thumbs, and licking at Sherlock's hole with a vigor that left Sherlock breathless.

"Oh!" Sherlock cried out, his hole twitching around John's tongue.

John groaned deep in his throat and his tongue lapped at Sherlock's flesh as though it was the best thing John had ever tasted. He continued this way for long moments and Sherlock let out a stream of noises unlike any he'd ever heard escape his lips. His moaning and whimpering should have been embarrassing, but this was John, his John.

Sherlock pressed his hips down, trying to rock hard enough to get John's tongue to breech him. But John, clever John, didn't let that happen. He moved with Sherlock, flattening his tongue and rolling it in broad waves against Sherlock's hole so there was no hope of it penetrating him.

Finally Sherlock cried out in frustration and arousal, "Please, John!"

John drew back and Sherlock looked down between his legs at the other man. His chin was covered in saliva, his hair was mussed, and he was panting to catch his breath. He was beautiful. "Please what, love?"

Sherlock groaned, and dropped his head back against the arm of the couch once more. "Please put your tongue inside of me," he begged. His own chest was heaving, his body strung out on pleasure so acute it felt like pain. He was a string tuned so tightly he was in danger of snapping.

Before he could snap, John's tongue was pressing against Sherlock's hole, the very tip wiggling against Sherlock's entrance, pressing marginally in, and Sherlock's frustration was washed away by sharp relief. "Yes!" he moeaned, "Oh, John, yes. Yes! Inside. Please put your tongue inside of me."

John groaned at his words and his tongue delved deeper into Sherlock's loosened hole. Sherlock's hips rocked toward John, attempting to press John's tongue inside of his body further. John, the incredible man, let him. He started moving his tongue in a counter motion, thrusting in as Sherlock pressed down and drawing back as Sherlock pulled away, fucking him steadily with his tongue.

It wasn't long before Sherlock's hand was releasing his knee and moving to stroke his aching member. But no sooner had his hand wrapped around his cock then John was pulling away from his hole. Sherlock cried out in agony.

"Hands off your cock," John managed between gasping breaths.

"Why?" Sherlock cried.

"Do you trust me?" John asked, his voice soft and serious. 

Something in his voice calmed the tempest inside of Sherlock. He looked down at John then, slowly he nodded and wrapped his hand back around his knee.

"Thank you," John murmured sweetly, leaning so he could press a kiss to the inside of Sherlock's thigh. He leaned up and sucked Sherlock's cock into his mouth. Swirling his tongue around the head and bobbing up and down.

Sherlock's hips twitched, pressing further into John's mouth and John moved with him. He sucked and licked at Sherlock's cock, just the way Sherlock loved, and Sherlock felt the frantic need to come and to touch himself settle. He let his head tip back against the sofa once more.

John pulled off his cock and Sherlock groaned at the loss. "Tell me what you want," John murmured.

And Sherlock realized he was giving him a choice. Sherlock could choose for John suck his cock, and John would do it. No questions asked. John would sink his mouth down Sherlock's shaft and he would get him off that way, he wouldn't be the least bit disappointed.

Or...

Or Sherlock could open himself up to John and give this a chance. And either way, it would be fine. Either way John would love and support him.

If he'd ever wanted to say those three words back, it was in this moment when John, his brilliant, wonderful John, was giving him the freedom to choose. When John understood him better than he understood himself. When he knew exactly how to make this work. "You're perfect," Sherlock whispered.

John looked up at him in surprise.

"I want you inside of me."

John groaned and immediately complied, his mouth dipping down on Sherlock's hole and ravaging him. John pressed his tongue inside of Sherlock's body over and over again. Thrusting, sucking, licking like a man possessed, he moaned and pressed his face closer to Sherlock's body, tongue reaching and licking in, in, in.

Sherlock cried out, his voice slipping higher and more desperate on each whimper. His hips were rocking helplessly, his cock hard and angry looking against his belly as it leaked precome all over him. "John!" Sherlock begged. "John's please. More!" He moaned as John's tongue rolled against the inside of his hole and he twitched around him. "Please. It's not enough."

John groaned and nodded, continuing to lick, but reaching his arm over the edge of the sofa. Sherlock heard the click of the lube bottle and his heart jumped into his throat, his hands reaching down to stop John.

But then John's hand was on his thigh again, palm stroking his skin soothingly. Reassuring him, _It's alright. I've got you. I'm here. You're alright._ John continued, relaxing him back into the rhythm of his tongue and of their bodies moving together.

Eventually, broadcasting his movement, John reached again for the lube, his other hand stroking Sherlock's thigh, praising him as Sherlock keened in pleasure at the way John was sucking on his rim. Then something smooth and cool, slick with lube, was rubbing against Sherlock's cock. Sherlock gasped, his muscles tensing and quivering. He looked down to see a thin, black vibrator brushing up and down his skin. 

It tingled and felt amazing, then there was a click and the vibrator was buzzing against his cock. His head flew back, his back arching off the couch; it felt intensely good, definitely too much. 

But before he had to say anything, John was moving away from his cock and drawing back from his hole simultaneously. Sherlock tensed but John's words were quick. "It's alright," he assured him. "You're alright," he promised. He slid the vibrator down and rubbed it against Sherlock's perineum but didn't move it lower.

Sherlock's body relaxed marginally but his thighs were shaking from the strain, and his fingers had turned white from the pressure of keeping himself open. 

"Relax," John murmured. "You're incredible, you've done so well, my darling, my sweet bee. Relax your legs, rest them over my shoulders."

Sherlock groaned and obeyed, lowering his legs onto John's shoulders with a sigh of relief.

John turned his face to press a kiss to his thigh, "That's perfect," he praised. Then his mouth was sliding over Sherlock's cock again. He didn't suck, not really, but he did begin to work Sherlock with his tongue as he continued rubbing slick circles on his perineum.

Sherlock let out a gurgling sort of whimper at how insanely good this felt. His brain was melting as his body tried to decide which sensory experience was better.

Either way, it wasn't enough, he was hanging at the razor's edge of pleasure and then he was begging, babbling without thought. "John, please. Oh! Uhhhn!" He gasped, "Please!"

"Tell me what you want," John breathed against Sherlock's cock.

"Lower!"

"Mouth or vibrator?" John asked.

"Vibrator," Sherlock begged, eyes slamming shut as John obeyed.

The vibrator moved lower until it was circling his hole. John didn't press inside yet, he just circled that flesh, rubbing teasingly while his mouth returned to Sherlock's cock. He felt John's other hand moving, then fresh lube was being rubbed against Sherlock's perineum. The vibrator abandoned his hole to slide up and collect the lube, then went back once more.

Sherlock let out a high keening sound, his hips bucked up against the vibrator, trying to get it to slip inside of him. "Oh," he cried again, his body hot and so desperate. "Inside!" he begged before seemingly losing facility over his voice and chanting, "John, please, please, please," his hands had come up to grip and tug at his own hair as he wailed. "Inside, please!"

John heard him, and a moment later he was edging the vibrator into Sherlock's hole, slipping it in no more than a third of an inch before drawing it out even as he bobbed his head over Sherlock's cock. 

"More," Sherlock pleaded and John obliged, pressing in past the tight ring of muscles about an inch before pulling out again. He maintained that depth for a few minutes, steadily working Sherlock's cock with his mouth, keeping it loose and soft. "John please, more," he moaned. 

John groaned around his cock and pressed in further, rocking in and out of Sherlock's body in half inch increments. He worked him slowly, lightly trailing the vibrator in an out, circling his rim and teasingly sliding back and forth.

The vibrator was driving Sherlock wild; hips bucking, cock twitching, thighs trembling. He'd never experienced sensation like this and he was desperate for more. "John, deeper!" 

John did as Sherlock asked, pressing it in further and sinking down to take Sherlock's entire cock in his mouth. Sherlock groaned and his fingers carded through John's silky hair. "More," Sherlock pleaded helplessly, moaning as his thighs quivered around John's head. 

John slid the vibrator the entire way in, tilting and angling as he rocked it in and out of Sherlock's body. Sherlock groaned and thrust down to meet it. John angled it just so and Sherlock's entire body jerked and locked up all at once. He hadn't thought it was possible to feel more desperate than he already was, and thus was entirely unprepared for the desperation that flooded his body. Somewhere in the depths of his mind he realized John had touched his prostate, but that thought was nowhere near his conscious being.

"Please!" Sherlock wailed. "Oh, John! John please!"

John did the same things again, brushing over Sherlock's prostate as he finally applied a bit of suction to Sherlock's cock. Sherlock's fingers spasmed and he was right there, right at the very edge of his orgasm. "John," he cried out, "Oh. Oh! I'm going to come. I'm going to come. Please!" a high keening cry escaped his lips. "Please. Please. Oh! I-" he gasped as John rubbed the vibrator over his prostate and gave a solid suck.

Sherlock lost it, every fiber of his being tensing and releasing simultaneously. His fingers clenched in John's hair and he cried out until his voice was hoarse. His cock let loose pulse after pulse of thick ejaculate, he'd never come this hard in his life. John worked him through it with his mouth and vibrator, eventually pulling out the vibrator and gentling his mouth as Sherlock started to come down. 

When Sherlock's entire body had relaxed back into the sofa, John relinquished his hold on Sherlock's cock and slid up Sherlock's body. He rolled them so they were on their sides facing one another, pressing Sherlock back against the sofa as he took him into his arms. He was vaguely aware of John stroking his hair and murmuring soft words to him, telling him he was brilliant and perfect. Whispering how much he adored him, praising him, telling him he was fantastic.

Sherlock eventually came back to some semblance of consciousness and wrapped his arms around John, burrowing impossibly nearer. John pressed a sweet kiss to his foreahead, "Alright, bee?" he breathed.

Sherlock nodded against John's chin. "That," he murmured, taking a deep breath between this word and his next, "Was unbelievable."

John pressed a kiss to his curls, "You're unbelievable," he echoed.

Sherlock hummed contentedly before a small nagging voice at the back of his mind reminded him something was left undone. His hand trailed down John's side, brushing over the goosebumps breaking out under his fingers. He reached John's hip and slipped his hand through the opening in John's pants to grasp his cock.

John gasped and his cock jumped in Sherlock's grip. "Sherlock." he groaned as he clasped Sherlock's wrist in his hand, "Stop, you don't have-"

"I want to," Sherlock interrupted, tipping his head back to nip at John's chin. He slid his hand out of John's pants, "Take these pants off and take me to bed."

"Bossy little thing, aren't you?" John murmured fondly.

Sherlock nodded, his head still feeling light and fuzzy. 

"How out of it are you?" John asked with a chuckle, "Scale of 1 to 10."

Sherlock hummed contemplatively, "Very," he replied, thinking this was a far superior high to the ones cocaine produced.

John kissed his forehead once more, then he rolled off the couch, leaving Sherlock to cry out in despair.

"I'm not leaving you," John murmured, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Sherlock's pouted lips.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's neck to hold him still and John used it as an opportunity to slide an arm under Sherlock's shoulders and his other under his knees, hefting him up off the sofa with a grunt. Sherlock clenched his arms tighter around John's neck and let out a surprised squawk.

"I've got you," John soothed and all of the tension drained out of his body at the sound of John's voice. "You couldn't be any more perfect could you?"John asked.

Sherlock sighed contentedly and didn't respond because that seemed like a rhetorical question. John nudged the door open to their room with his foot and then carefully eased Sherlock through the door, "Elbows in," he instructed softly. 

Once inside, John laid him out on the bed, stroking his curls back off his face affectionally. "You're fantastic."

"You're brilliant," Sherlock replied. John laughed and Sherlock scowled at him, "I'm serious John." 

John slipped his pants off and climbed onto the bed, straddling Sherlocks hips and cupping his face in his palms to kiss him.

Sherlock allowed it for a moment, then drew back, "I really mean it, John. That was brilliant."

"I'm glad you thought so," John murmured, trailing kisses down Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock tilted his head back and arched into the touch, "I don't mean brilliant as in that was a fantastic shag," Sherlock continued. "Although, it was a fantastic shag," he clarified. "I mean that it was very clever. In making me tell you every step of the way what you should do, you gave me control."

John hummed an "mhmm" against Sherlock's throat.

"You knew exactly what you were doing the entire time. You were confident, and sexy, and encouraging, and supportive." Sherlock shook his head and threaded his fingers through John's hair, "You are brilliant. To think on occasion, I've merely seen you as a conductor of light, and not luminous yourself," Sherlock murmured more to himself than to John. 

"And you were doing so well," John grumbled into Sherlock's collarbone, but he was smiling, so Sherlock didn't think he was really upset.

"Sorry, I've got poor impulse control when I'm high."

"You've got poor impulse control all the time," John said with a laugh. "But I'm glad those endorphins are treating you so well."

"What do you want?" Sherlock murmured, stroking his hands along John's body.

John shrugged, "I don't know." He leaned in and trailed his lips feather light over Sherlock's, "I'm too thrilled with how receptive you were to that. You are fantastic," he pressed his lips to Sherlock's. "That was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, you are impeccable."

"I don't think even your flattery will get me to achieve and erection again," Sherlock told him. "I've never had such an intense orgasm in my life."

"I wasn't trying to make you hard again," John said with a laugh. "Although I wouldn't say no, if you were."

"Hands of mouth?" Sherlock offered.

John hummed, "hands. Then," he said, leaning in close to Sherlock's lips once more, "I can kiss you."

Sherlock smiled against John's lips and his hands trailed down John's body, stroking his back for a few moments before he rolled the two of them, pressing John onto his back. Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's cheek and let his hand trail down John's abdomen. 

He brushed his fingers along that trail of hair leading toward John's cock and John's breath hitched. Sherlock couldn't bring himself to tease him for long, his fingers reached out and clasped John's cock. "There we are," Sherlock murmured softly in John's ear, smirking as John groaned. "This is such a beautiful organ," Sherlock murmured, stroking John's cock firmly from root to tip. "A perfect specimen if ever there was one. It's so thick," he said, groaning softly against the shell of John's ear as he gave him another languid stroke, spreading the precome leaking from his tip. "And long," he murmured breathily. Sherlock bit John's earlobe, "and hard." He moaned.

"Sherlock," John groaned, and Sherlock knew this was doing it for him, his hips were arching off the bed in search of more contact but Sherlock kept it light and slow; intent on drawing this out a bit and making it good for John.

"You are so perfect," he murmured, letting his lips trail over John's ear. "So beautiful," John shuddered. "So good and kind," he murmured. "And you're brilliant. You're the best person I've ever known." 

And quite suddenly John was coming, gasping Sherlock's name as his cock shot off all over Sherlock's hand and John's chest and abdomen. 

"Oh," Sherlock murmured in surprise, he stroked John as he came down, shuddering and whispering Sherlock's name. "I hadn't finished complimenting you yet," Sherlock informed John as John tilted his lips toward Sherlock's for a kiss.

"I'm not sure how you expected me to last longer than two minutes after that show you put on in the living room. There were a couple of times I thought for sure I was going to come just from listening to you. And there were a couple of times I was sorely tempted to rub off against the couch." He leaned in and kissed Sherlock again.

"Oh," Sherlock said in surprise.

"You're hopeless," John informed him. "You'll never see yourself the way I see you."

Sherlock couldn't help but smile, "You'll never see yourself the way I see you either." He pressed a kiss to John's cheek and rolled to reach a tissue from the nightstand. "Forgive me, my legs still feel like jelly. I'd never make it to get a flannel."

John laughed, "I'm sure I'll live."

Once they were cleaned up, they wrapped each other in a tangle of limbs. Sherlock listened to the steady beating of John's heart and felt the slow rise and fall of the other man's chest while tracing inane patterns on John's skin. It wasn't too long before he heard a soft snore and knew John had fallen asleep. He could help but smile at the warmth and joy expanding in his chest. Slowly he traced those three words, the ones he couldn't bring himself to say, along John's rib cage until he too drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> That's the end of chapter one. More to come soon, lovies!


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